An Education
by Cheshire6845
Summary: Augris and the Mokra Order have captured Captain Janeway. An A/U story for the episode Resistance.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer**: Even after all these years, I still own nothing. I just enjoy playing in the sandbox.

**Notes:** Huge thanks to Quantumsilver for continuing to beta for me even when I continue to make mistakes that I should really know better than to do by now. That being said, I've done some rewriting in this since QS had it so any and all mistakes are definitely mine. Have no fear, the story is finished. I'll be posting in parts, but I will not leave you without an ending.

**Warnings: **I think by the time you finish reading this little intro to the story, you'll have a good idea of whether or not it is going to be your cup of tea. Violence, angst, and torture will ensue.

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**An Education by Cheshire**

She knelt between the two posts, beaten but not yet destroyed. Not completely. Her arms hung limply from the short chains, but she was still managing to keep her upper body from collapsing completely. If she'd been forced to stand for this proceeding…well, she was glad she didn't have to.

"Do you confess?"

Breathing was an effort and her throat had dried out hours ago, but she could still offer a defiant glare and a croak of an answer. "No."

He smiled, pleased with her answer. It allowed him to continue doing exactly what he wanted to do.

"Very well." He turned back to the assembled crowd. A dozen or so witnesses compelled to be there. "The prisoner maintains her innocence despite overwhelming evidence proving otherwise. Despite repeated attempts at reconciliation, she claims ignorance. Ignorance is unacceptable. She must receive education."

There were more than a few gasps and a slight murmur rippled through the assembled crowd. He held up a hand, seeming to placate the people. "I know." He put a hand to his chest. "I don't like it anymore than you do, but she must be taught. As one of your elected leaders, I chose to take on that responsibility, and unfortunate though it may be, I will not shirk my duty."

"Ask her again!" a voice shouted from the crowd. "Just to be sure."

There were several shouts of encouragement, and he nodded magnanimously. "Of course." Giving his back to the crowd, he took a knee in front of her, his gloved hand lifting her chin and smoothing sweat soaked hair away from her face. "Well?" he asked, cupping her jaw with his hand. "For the sake of my people, will you give up these claims of ignorance and help me protect them by telling us everything you know?"

"I don't _know_ anything," she growled, jerking her chin from his grasp.

His eyes glittered darkly, promising pain. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

She scoffed at his platitude. "No, you're not."

"You're right; I'm not." He regained his feet and addressed the crowd. "She refuses to recant. We have no choice. _I_ have no choice." He gestured to the guards. "Remove her to the education center. We shall begin immediately."


	2. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

The ache in her neck was finally starting to diminish. Whatever weapon they'd shot her with that first day in the market had been more destructive than any phaser. Waking up had been painful, not only because of an ache in her head, but any movement of her neck had stretched the wound, shooting needles of pain down into her shoulder. Between her own sweat and whatever filth she'd accumulated from the street and her cell, it had only taken a day for the site to become infected.

She'd felt the fever settling in, heat climbing up her neck, wrapping her skull with hot white cotton. She'd barely been able to keep her eyes open and her responses to their questions had become slurred. That more than anything had prompted them to provide medical treatment.

Between the fever and the treatment she'd received so far at the hands of the Mokra, she'd completely lost her sense of how much time had passed. She felt punchy, like she did when she'd been on the bridge for too many hours with no sleep and too much coffee. If she had to guess, she'd say that three days, maybe four, had passed since she'd been taken into custody. If Neelix hadn't made it back to Voyager with the tellurium…

Thankfully, he'd already gone back inside to finish the deal when the fighting had broken out on the street. She'd seen Tuvok phaser one black helmeted guard, and B'Elanna had been easily holding her own in a fist fight…that was the last thing Janeway could remember clearly. B'Elanna knocking a guard's chin back, and then her own world had exploded in searing white pain. Collapsing as she had, she didn't know the fate of her officers or her ship.

She'd wanted to ask, to demand answers, but there was no real way to do that without potentially making the situation worse for her officers or ship. Up to this point, the Mokra hadn't mentioned them by name and neither had she. Not that she thought they'd answer her questions anyway. It had been made clear early on that they were the ones that would be asking the questions not her.

So far they hadn't liked her answers, and she'd received more than a few hits and kicks. One spot over her right kidney was particularly tender. She was sure it was nothing that the EMH couldn't fix, but given her current state of affairs, she wasn't sure when she'd be seeing him again. Although the sterile room she currently sat in appeared to be no different than the other interrogation rooms they had trod her through, she had a feeling they were really going to get down to business now.

The room was comprised of blank walls, a simple table, two chairs, and a single source of light; the main difference she noticed with this room was that it had two doors instead of just one. The door leading from the justice hall that she'd just left was in front of her and there was another door currently at her back. Now that she'd been sentenced to the 'education center', she guessed that she'd know soon enough where the door behind her led.

The justice hall door opened and _he_ walked into the room, Third Magistrate Augris of the Mokra Order. His customary two guards flanked him on either side. "That was quite the performance you gave them today. I couldn't have asked for better." He threw a rectangular lump of what looked like oats and seeds on the table. "You might as well eat while we cover the formalities."

She eyed it warily, but then reached for it, her aching fingers trembling slightly as they grasped it. He snapped his fingers at one of the guards. Reluctantly, the guard took a liquid-filled cube from a pouch on his belt and put it on the table for her. She accepted it, thankful that it was one of the cubes and not a cup like she'd been offered occasionally, less chance that it had been fouled.

"Good." Augris took a seat and opened a ledger book on the desk. "You've been fed and watered so I'd say that counts as being treated fairly." He checked off an item. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. You will answer 'yes' or 'no', and these answers will be recorded as your official responses to be reevaluated for correction at a later time. Do you understand?"

God, she was tired. As she had already answered them more than a dozen times, she knew exactly which questions he was going to ask. The food and checklist was new, though, and a bit worrisome if she was being honest.

"Do you understand?" he repeated.

"Yes."

The door behind her opened, and two guards dressed in the black Mokra Order uniforms walked in, taking position behind her on either side. The last bite of grain stuck in her throat as moist air carrying the scent of rust followed them into the room, permeating the sterile environment.

"Question one. Are you a member of the Resistance?"

She swallowed. "No."

"Question two. Do you assist the Resistance?"

"No."

"Question three. Have you reported to the proper authorities what you know about the Resistance?"

The questions were supposed to be answered with one word. There was no allowance for explanation. This point had been reiterated to her every time they reached this question, and she braced herself for the blow she was about to receive. "I don't know-"

Before she could say another syllable, electric current arced through her body, seizing her muscles, burning across her synapses as her jaw ground shut and her wrists jerked involuntarily against the cuffs locking them together. After a long, drawn-out minute, the guard at her left removed the baton from her side, releasing her from the current. She slumped in the chair, falling over the table, panting in relief.

"The prisoner will answer with a response of 'yes' or 'no' only. Any other response will be treated as defiance against the Mokra Order. Repeated defiance will be treated as an admission of guilt. Do you understand?"

Sweat had broken out across her forehead. That jolt had been more than double the strength of the jolts she'd been treated to before. The cuff on her wrist clinked against the table as her arm had a residual spasm. Slowly, she managed to raise her head to look at Augris. She supposed the look he gave her could be considered a smile, but it reminded her more of a wolf that had just found dinner.

"Now do you understand, Janeway?"

"Yes," she managed.

"Question three. Have you reported to the proper authorities what you know about the Resistance?"

She cast a wary glance to her side and remained silent. If she said no, she was guilty. If she said yes, as she had tried before, they demanded to know specific instances that would be verified. As she had never been on the planet before, there were no instances on record that could be verified, which made her a liar and modified the yes into an admission of guilt.

"Silence will be treated as an admission of guilt," Augris informed her, reminding her. He waited for another moment then made a notation in his book when she remained silent. "Question four. Are you a Resistance sympathizer?"

"No."

"Question five. Upon release from this facility, will you conduct yourself as an educated citizen and report any and all Resistance activity to the proper authorities?"

"You have no-"

The guard moved at her side to deliver a jolt, but Augris held up a hand, staying the guard's motion. She'd flinched and he'd seen it. "You have something you wish to say?"

Janeway moistened her dry lips. "You have no intention of ever letting me leave this facility."

It wasn't a comforting thought, and based on what she'd been told, repeatedly, it wasn't true. But she knew. Deep down in her gut, every instinct she had about Augris screamed that he was going to kill her before he would ever release her.

He smiled again. "That's not entirely true," he argued. "It's quite possible that eventually I will allow you to leave _this_ facility. Your statement, however, while not entirely incorrect, is not a yes or no answer."

He dropped his hand and the current burned through her again, bucking her body completely out of the chair and onto the floor, where she continued to twitch even after the guard had stepped away. Somewhere, far away, she heard a chair scrape against the floor and a shadow loomed over her, blocking out the singular overhead light.

"Continued defiance is an admission of guilt. Based on your responses today, we have sufficient reason to believe that you are a member of the Resistance. Subversives must be educated before rejoining our society. You will be given the full course of indoctrination. Reevaluation of your loyalties will be conducted in six months time. If at that time, we have not recorded sufficient behavioral changes, further sentencing will be considered." He looked to the guards. "She's all yours."


	3. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

The acrid stench of mixed chemicals burned her nose when she entered the small room. A single Alsaurian waited for her, the tools of his trade spread out over a table and a rolling cart of trays. She glanced over them but didn't immediately recognize anything. One of the guards that had brought her to the room stepped up to her side.

"Take off your shirt."

She looked at him, gauging his expression. He did not have the professional blank look she'd become accustomed to seeing in the Mokra officers. He looked amused, and she heard a snicker of laughter behind her.

"Take it off, or I'll do it for you," he said, withdrawing a knife from a sheath at his belt.

Between the beatings and the interrogations, they hadn't been treating her well, but this was the first order that felt sexually threatening. She glanced again at the Alsaurian, his tools, and the waist-high rack that stood in front of him. Her pulse raced at the suddenly added danger and she considered her options. The small room was incredibly confined, and with the Alsaurian, the guard at her side, and the second guard that had escorted her likely standing in the doorway, the room was downright crowded. There was no room to maneuver and she knew that any fight in here would be over before it began.

But damn if she wouldn't try.

She heard the guard behind her shift his weight and she tensed. Nose, throat, groin. Worked on most species she'd come across. She balled her hands into fists.

The Alsaurian noticed and shook his head, mouthed the word 'don't'. Janeway hesitated; the guard at her side smiled and reached for her.

"All right," she said, holding him off as she reached for the bottom hem of her shirt. Tugging it over her head, she saw the Alsaurian turn and give her his back. Either he was being considerate of her forced nudity, or she had just made a huge mistake by trusting him.

Her bun of steel hadn't lasted past the first day of questioning, and now her long hair hung loose, tickling the bare skin of her back. She held the shirt in her fist down by her side, enduring the guard's interested stare, before he finally grabbed her upper arm and guided her towards the rack across from the Alsaurian.

He pushed her onto it, face down. She barely managed to turn her head to the side in time to avoid smashing her nose as he restrained one arm and then the other. She felt another set of hands secure a strap over her waist and lock her ankles against the bottom edge of the rack. She had a moment of vertigo as the guards swung the rack to a standing position. Her view of the Alsaurian busying himself with his tools was replaced with a view of the wall as they repositioned the rack.

A fist wrapped in her tangled hair, pulling her head back at an awkward painful angle. She heard a click and the scent of scorched hair began to fill the room. Within a few moments, her head was released from the pull against it. She felt an irrational pang of sorrow deep in her chest as hair no longer than her chin fell forward, brushing loosely against skin.

She heard the guard chuckle behind her and knew he was probably holding up her hair like some damned trophy. She was glad she couldn't see him. It was ridiculous that with her back now bared to the room she felt more exposed than she had when she'd whipped her shirt off.

"She's all yours, Etcher," one of the guards said from the doorway. "We'll be in the hall if she gives you any trouble."

The etcher, as the guards called him, waited until the door closed before speaking to her. "This will not be a pleasant experience for you, but I assure you, that if you had fought them, it would be worse."

Janeway heard him moving behind her, rolling what sounded like one of the tool carts closer to her. She hated not being able to see what was going on. "Who are you? Can you help me?"

He snorted. "It would be a mistake to think I can help you," he said and wiped a wet rag across her shoulders and down her back. The cool liquid stung the small cuts and abrasions she had collected over the past several days as it rolled down her back and soaked into the waistband of her pants. "I'm no one."

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, flinching when he swiped another rag over her back. It smelled like fingernail polish and left her skin cold.

"It's my job to give you your prisoner intake number."

She thought she finally understood some of the tools she'd seen. "A tattoo?"

"No," he said and rubbed a rougher dry rag across her shoulder blades. "A tattoo can be removed. Mokra prisoners get their numbers etched into bone."

Janeway's mouth went dry, and she heard him pick up a tool from the cart. She heard two clicks followed by a steady hiss; she tensed. A strong metallic scent flooded her nostrils as she felt an ice cold probe touch her shoulder blade. It didn't stay cold.

The etcher moved the tool in a downward curve and the cold trail it left in its path turned to fire. A cry of pain escaped through clenched teeth as the fire seemed to melt through skin and muscle, working its way down to bone where it could sear itself into permanence.

"You took that well," the Alsaurian muttered as he finished what she assumed was the first numeral. "Try to stay still, or it will only get worse."

She didn't want to imagine how it could be worse and forced herself to freeze in place. It took a great deal of control to stay still and even her conscious effort was barely enough. By the third number, she was trembling against the onslaught, and the etcher had to continually blot her back where he was working to soak up her sweat.

As he finished the fourth numeral, she heard the door open. She almost sighed in relief when she heard him click the machine off. Even knowing it was likely only a temporary reprieve, some of the tension left her body until she heard _his_ voice.

"How is it going?" Augris asked, circling past the etcher and into Janeway's line of sight. Even in such a state of defeat, she glared at him.

"Halfway done, sir," the etcher answered.

If Augris hadn't been watching her so closely, she would have sighed with relief. Before the etcher had started, she'd had no idea how many numbers comprised a prisoner intake number. After he'd started, she hadn't had the strength to ask.

Augris inspected the handiwork, rubbing his finger along the fresh wounds, eliciting a grunt of pain from her. His gloved hand trailed lower down her back, his palm flattening in the area over her kidney as he increased pressure against her. She flinched away from the contact as much as the restraints allowed. She hadn't been able to see it herself, but she knew it must be a dark shade of bruised blue. The kicks had landed in that spot with unerring accuracy.

He removed his hand, gesturing to the etcher. "Continue."

Janeway ground her molars together as the etcher began the fifth numeral. Augris watched her silently, his hungry gaze taking in her every reaction. She jerked involuntarily when the sixth numeral was started, shutting her eyes as the Alsaurian hit muscle that was already inflamed from injury. When she felt her hair move, she opened her eyes to see Augris fingering several of the short, loose strands.

"Such a pity," he said, letting them fall through his fingers. He sighed and opened a small book that he was carrying. "From today forward you will be Prisoner 98473351," he informed her. "Short of removing the bone it is etched into, you will live with this number for the rest of your life, however long or short that may be."

She'd just have to see about that. Even if the EMH couldn't get it off her bone, she'd at least have it erased from her skin and never have to see it.

Augris didn't seem to mind that she made no response to his proclamation, settling himself on a stool in front of her. "When I first took this post, we only needed four numerals to catalogue our prisoners, but the subversives are like a plague. They try to consume everything that is good in our world, corrupting so many innocent people like yourself, duping them into believing the lie."

Her back spasmed as the etcher began carving the eighth number into her flesh. "You're the lie," she panted.

She saw Augris glance at the etcher, but the man hadn't even paused in his work. Apparently, he knew better than to acknowledge he'd heard anything. Augris sighed anyway, continuing his show as a man working for the people. "And that is precisely why we must insure you are educated."

The tool behind her shut off. "All done, sir," the etcher reported.

Janeway took in a trembling breath and tried to relax her hands from the fists she'd had them clenched into. She felt as though someone had laid a red hot iron blade across her shoulder blades and held it there. The melting heat from the last three numbers was distinct and still sinking in, but the first few wounds had become indiscernible from each other forming a long, branded line.

Augris stood, once again inspecting the work. "Nicely done." He nodded. "Now, insert the tracker."

The small moment of relief she'd felt was replaced with a new sense of dread, one that was compounded by the etcher's hesitation.

"Sir?"

She saw the flash of annoyance on Augris' face and knew the etcher had erred. "You are trained in the procedure, aren't you?"

"O-of course, sir," the etcher stuttered, "but she's…awake, sir, and I don't have-"

"Are you questioning my order?"

"N-no, sir."

Janeway closed her eyes. She knew nothing good would come from this exchange.

"Then make the preparations," Augris ordered coldly. He retook his seat in front of Janeway, his irritated gaze still on the etcher. "You've just lost half of your rations for the next month."

"Yes, sir," the etcher responded.

With a look of disgust, Augris returned his attention to Janeway. "The worst pain an Alsaurian will ever suffer is to have their _falsa _broken." He fingered the exposed bone over his nose. "I'm told the second worst pain is, when out of necessity, we are forced to install a tracker in them."

Even without seeing, she could feel the etcher situate himself behind her. Three cold metal barbs pressed against her rib cage on the right side.

"Since you don't have a _falsa,_"Augris said, tracing his finger down Janeway's nose, "you'll have to let me know how this rates."

Augris nodded at the etcher. The etcher leaned all his body weight against her and triggered the device digging into her side.


	4. Chapter 3

**Ch. 3**

Her throat still burned. She'd screamed it raw. The spot where they'd inserted the tracker was still sore to the touch, and that bruise was definitely a vibrant red and purple. It had been…well, she was no longer sure of how long it had been, days at least.

Guards came and went. Sometimes she noticed when they left, sometimes she didn't. Exhaustion chewed at her every moment. The ache and tremble of fatigue was heaped upon already-abused muscles. Every step she took was painful, and yet she had to continue taking them. Anytime she stopped, it was worse.

The guards were there to encourage and educate her. Or so they claimed. They did keep her moving, but it was hardly under positive reinforcement. She had several particularly tender spots that they had learned quickly and now aimed for when prodding her along. Her right kidney and left thigh were prime targets for eliciting grunts of pain. They'd only managed to hit the tracker site once, that had been more than enough to send her to a knee, and she kept her right arm tucked protectively over it after that. Consequently, her right elbow was starting to swell from the strikes it was taking.

Hitting her as she passed, aiming for spots that would elicit the most reaction from her was the only amusement the guards had. She, at least, understood that. The monotony of their task had to be mind-numbing. How long could you watch a person stumble around a room and not lose interest? If she didn't have to concentrate on mundane things like putting one foot in front of the other, she'd be bored out of her mind, too. As it was, it was taking all her will power to remain upright.

Will power and thoughts of rescue. She knew now that Voyager was still flying and that B'Elanna and Tuvok were with her. It had been the only good news she'd heard since that day in the street when Neelix had showed her the tellurium. Of course, the news hadn't been intended for her ears, but on her second day in the room the guards had gotten edgier, hitting her harder, whispering nervously to each other when they thought she couldn't hear them. Apparently, there'd been an escape from the prison, the first ever. The two alien prisoners had disappeared in a stream of blue and white light.

It had taken a lot of self-control to not react to the news, but it meant everything to her. It meant Neelix had gotten back with the tellurium. It meant B'Elanna and Tuvok were safe, and Voyager was still flying which meant she just had to hold on long enough for her crew to find her.

Augris wasn't making it easy. As delighted as she'd been at the news, he'd been the complete opposite. He'd beat her into unconsciousness. He probably wouldn't have if she hadn't smiled at him after the first punch, but as soon as she had, he'd known. Known that somehow she'd heard the news. Her beating hadn't been the only consequence; she hadn't seen the same two whispering guards since.

Considerable time had passed since that day. Days. A week. Which would mean her total time of captivity was nearing two weeks? She shook her head; she didn't think it had been a week yet, probably not even five days...but she couldn't be sure. She wasn't even entirely sure the news of Voyager had come on her second day. It could have just been at the end of a really long _first_ day. She had no way to mark time; food, water, and rest had become precious commodities offered in small doses at inconsistent times. She hadn't gone completely without any of them, but the concept wasn't far off.

And anytime that it wasn't a special moment of rest, she was forced to be up on her feet, circling the room, continually moving. Allegedly, she was learning. More accurately, she was being broken down. Fatigue was an old but effective way to manipulate someone, and 'old ways' seemed to be what the Education Center was all about. The place had a much more primitive feel to it than her earlier prison. There were no force fields or manufactured walls – just heavy doors and massive locks. It was old and the sense of permanence it inspired was hard to ignore.

The smooth stone walls were particularly dry and dusty. Outside the three water cubes they'd allowed her since she'd been brought into the room, she didn't think there was a single drop of moisture in the place. She had the impression this particular room hadn't been used for much of anything in quite some time. Her presence had already left its mark. A clean swath had been created in the dust all along the walls from where she'd trailed a hand or rubbed a shoulder along them as she made her circuits. Mostly, the wall was the only thing that kept her from falling over.

"Five-one," a guard called to her from across the room. "Break."

She'd looked up when he'd spoken. Five-one. It galled her to acknowledge the designation they'd given her, but she welcomed the respite, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She forced herself to stay awake long enough to briefly massage her calf muscles. They were like rocks attached to wooden pegs for all the feeling she had in them. The pain would be even worse when she had to move again, but it'd wake her up. Unfortunately.

Something fell across her forehead, leaving a trail that itched as it passed. It was quickly followed by another something, something wet, drops were falling on her, and she gasped back into consciousness to find Augris sitting in a chair next to her, dropping water on her head. She swiped at the wet spot on her head and stiffened into a sitting position, sliding up against the wall, trying not to react to the cramping muscles in her legs. He flipped the dribbling water cube into her lap. She held out for only a brief second before picking it up and sucking its cool, wet contents into her mouth.

"This cell was meant to hold ten to fifteen men for as long as they needed to be housed here," he said, conversationally. "On occasion, though, it held as many as seventy for much shorter periods of time."

He looked at her, but she said nothing.

"The guards tell me you don't know your name."

Janeway's gaze flicked to the guard standing sentry beside him. "I know my name."

"So, you do speak? I was worried you had perhaps lost your voice on your intake day," he commented. She swallowed, feeling the still-tender tissues of the back of her throat. He leaned back in his chair. "Since you claim to know it, why don't you tell me your name?"

The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. She wasn't so far gone yet to know what he was playing at. "That's against the rules."

Augris turned in his chair to eye the guard. "Is this true? Have you been telling her it's against the rules to say her name?"

"Of course not, Magistrate. That would serve no purpose."

"Then she's lying?"

"She is." The guard brandished the shock wand at his side and stepped forward. "She knows the penalty for lying."

Augris held up his hand, halting the guard. "Allow me to clarify before we take further action. It may be that her species does not have the mental capacity to retain multiple numerals." He turned back to her. "Your designation, or name, is Prisoner 98473351. To simplify matters, we shall address you by the last two numerals. Five-one."

She toyed with the water cube in her hands, staring silently at both of them.

"Now tell me." Augris leaned forward. "What is your name?"

Silence.

"Continued silence will be considered defiance," the guard said, moving forward, the shock wand buzzing with unreleased current.

Augris held him off again. "Five-one. That is the designation you will answer with when asked your name," he told her, never taking his eyes off her. "Now, if you continue to defy us, we will have to move to more persuasive methods of education." He paused, knowing full well she understood every word he said. "What's your name, prisoner?"

She took the last sip of water in the capsule, tilting her head back to let it drip into her mouth. Setting it aside, finally, she took a breath and answered. "My name is Kathryn Janeway."

The shock hit the bare sole of her foot, traveling instantaneously up the rest of her body, sending her muscles into blinding spasms. Her teeth clicked together, and she barely felt the brunt of the floor impact her shoulder as she slid uncontrollably to the ground. The guard continued to hold the wand in place until a grinding scream of pain tore from her throat past her clenched teeth.

Even after the wand had been removed, her body twitched. Augris leaned over her, his face filling her vision. "So much unnecessary pain." He moved a lock of hair out of her face. "But you will learn. You will learn everything I need you to know."

He straightened, pulling his jacket into its proper place. "Let's bring in the trough. Put her in it and make sure she's strapped down tight. I'll begin in an hour."


	5. Chapter 4

**Ch. 4**

_She's drowning. The water has filled her ears and is slowly crawling up the sides of her face. She can't get away from it. Her body twitches against the deadly insinuation, but that only causes a ripple in the water. A ripple that crashes against the walls of the trough and sends the water further upward in its quest, rushing over her mouth, covering precious centimeters of exposed skin before rolling off to the sides only to rejoin the steady march up the sides of her face. Soon enough, the water licks at the edges of her mouth and kisses the corners of her eyes. She blinks, trying to keep it out, but it continues to rise, covering her mouth completely, sliding closer to her nostrils. She thrashes the few centimeters of space that the restraints allow, but it dispels the water for only a few seconds as it continues to rise, covering her completely. Not even thrashing will help her now. She's completely immersed, the singular light fixture attached to the ceiling above her appearing fractured as she stares helplessly at it through a clear curtain of death._

Gagging, her insides revolt, pushing anything and everything inside her up and out, slicking her teeth as she rolled over, choking, spitting out a mouthful of clear, burning liquid. She was alive. Her gut heaved again, trying desperately to expel the water it insisted was still inside her. Coughing, breathing through the thick strings of saliva clinging to her chin, she laid back, pulling deep ragged breaths into her lungs, helping as much as they were hurting.

She wasn't dead. That was a more accurate description of how she felt. Being alive was no great accomplishment, not when she felt this bad. She closed her eyes only to feel that insinuating, itchy crawl of liquid against her skin, and she heaved again, barely getting her head turned to the side in time.

He hadn't managed to kill her. Yet. It was only a matter of time. A matter of patience on his part. There was certainly nothing she had done that had kept him from killing her. He'd sat and watched as the water had covered her completely, then he'd moved slightly, kicking his foot forward, and the water had drained away. She'd been so focused on gasping for breath she hadn't realized how malicious he really was. The water hadn't drained completely away, nor had the flow coming into the trough ever stopped. By the time she'd caught her breath, the water had already begun climbing again, seeping back into her ears, floating tendrils of her short, uneven hair, rising once more up the sides of her face. He'd smiled when comprehension had crossed her features.

Understanding his plan had helped her to focus, to fight the fear. She'd focused on her training, holding herself with a rigidity that equaled the planks of the trough surrounding her. It had worked for a while, but only a very short while. Augris had simply waited, allowing the water to continuing flowing over her. Because she'd been calm, she'd been able to hold her breath longer, but that solution hadn't worked in her favor.

Augris had been patient. The longer she had held her breath, the higher the water had climbed, covering her in several inches instead of a few centimeters. The longer she had held out, the worse her situation had become. He'd watched and released the drain only when she'd given in and been forced to exhale. The water had drained away at the same slow pace regardless of how much she'd needed air. By the time she'd breached the surface she'd sucked in water instead of air and her vision had been blacking out.

With assistance in the form of his fist slamming into her, she had expelled the water she'd taken in. Restrained as she'd been, there had been nowhere for her to turn despite the body-wrenching heaves. Some water had flowed out of her mouth, over her chin and face, some she choked on as it slid back down her throat, triggering more gagging. The entire time he had simply watched and waited, plugging the drain again as soon as she'd mostly recovered.

The slow, inexorable flow of water had never ceased.

"First time in the trough?" a voice asked from the dark corner of the cell.

Wiping a hand across her chin, Janeway peered into the darkness. "W-who's there?"

An old man leaned forward into the dim light of the cell. He was gaunt and frail. Wisps and tufts of grey hair scattered over his head. "Just me."

She coughed several times, her head pounding between each, before she was finally able to speak again. "Who are you?"

He shrugged hunched shoulders and shuffled closer. "They call me Three-twelve."

When he moved closer, she could see the exposed bone over his nose, the _falsa, _had been broken and never straightened. Instead of running a straight line down his face, the two splintered ends were angled inward. "Who calls you that?"

"Everyone."

"How long have you been here?"

Three-twelve chuckled. "Too long. Or, long enough."

Another coughing fit racked her body, and she actually groaned when it finally passed. Looking up from her hunched position, she saw the old man watching her. It was bad enough to feel as wretched as she did without having an audience. "What?"

"You are not Alsaurian."

Janeway snorted at his observation, raising herself up again. "No, I'm not."

He looked her up and down, a frown creasing his already-wrinkled forehead. "What do they want from you?"

It hurt too much to shake her head, so she just leaned back against the wall, trying to keep her breathing shallow. "I honestly don't know."

"Haven't they asked you for anything?"

"Not really."

He thought about that for a moment. "Then they must want you to do something for them."

She cracked open one eye to look at him. "Why do you say that?"

"Why else?" He looked at her more suspiciously. "Unless you committed a crime?"

"I've committed no crime."

He nodded. "I didn't think so. Most people that come through here haven't. Either you have something they want, or there's something they want you to do. Unless…"

"Unless what?" she asked, several coughs following her question.

Three-twelve looked nervous and glanced towards the cell door before leaning towards her. "Are you part of the Resistance?"

"No, I'm not part of the Resistance," she said firmly, for anyone else who might be listening. "I just want to get back to my ship."

He waved her last statement off, going back to the issue he was more interested in. "You said you _aren't_ part of the Resistance."

"That's correct," she said. "I'm not."

"But there _is_ a Resistance," he said, his fingers twitching in excitement. "Tell me, please, what do you know?"

She leaned away from him, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"

Three-twelve appeared confused. "I've already told you."

"You haven't told me anything short of a number for a name," she snapped, ignoring the cough that punctuated her speech. "Who are you really?"

"Oh," he said, the excitement and confusion disappearing from his face, replaced with a sad disappointment. "You think…I'm Mokra."

Janeway let silence be her reply.

He shook his head. "I am not Mokra. My wife…she hated the Mokra. It was for her that I spoke out against them. She thought they were becoming too powerful. Little did we know, they already were." He looked down at the floor. "The Mokra didn't like what I had to say."

She felt a chill at his last words, spoken so quietly. His eyes had drifted away from hers as he'd spoken, to a different time for him, no doubt. "What did they do to you?"

He looked around the cell as if seeing it for the first time. "Brought me here."

"And then what happened?" she asked, noticing his hands had clenched into fists.

"Never left," he said eventually, shaking his head. "You're right. We shouldn't talk about such things. Nothing good will come from it." He loosened his hands, flexing his fingers. "You should rest. You need your rest."

"Wait, I want to-"

"No. You should rest." He slipped back into the shadows of the corner. "They'll be back for you. You should rest now…while you can…before they come back."


	6. Chapter 5

**Ch. 5**

Keep moving. Don't stop. Don't fall down.

She knew the game now and aside from not saying her real name, those were their rules. Her own personal rule book also included not getting hit with the guards' stun batons. The energy they kept hitting her with from those was wreaking havoc on her nervous system. It wasn't quite the equivalent of electricity as she knew it. If it was, she'd likely already be dead. There was a snap to it like the energy coursing through a relay. She'd replaced plenty of busted relays in her time, getting popped with current more than once, but she'd never held onto an arcing relay to test how long she could stand it so she couldn't be sure the comparison was accurate. Whatever the energy was, it hurt.

And so she walked. One foot in front of the other, around and around the cavernous room she went. They'd moved her. It wasn't her cell that she paced, and it wasn't the dry dusty room that could hold seventy men. Either of those rooms would have been preferable, which was exactly why she wasn't in them. This room was hot – steamy, reeking, jungle hot. Sweat had poured off of her in the beginning, leaving white lines of salt on her clothes, and still she was forced to continue moving. She was exhausted.

The makeup of the room was both artificial and purposeful. Two of the walls were jagged, uneven rock face that must have been blasted out during construction of the prison and then left as they were, unfinished and, because of what had to be artificial humidity, slick with constant moisture. The other two walls were no better. Their surfaces were smooth and unyielding, reformed to a flat appearance for an obvious purpose.

Without even trying, Janeway now knew the name and appearance of every member of the Resistance that the Mokra had files on. Their images and information were played constantly on the flat walls while she was forced to walk the room. Jurmon had a slight build, light eyes, and a scar across his chin. Blese had blonde hair that she wore in a pixie cut similar to Kes. Maltu had broad shoulders and even thicker arms, his dark hair worn in several braids down his back. Sewrin was unremarkable except for the hate that twisted her expression. And on it went. Twenty-seven in total.

For the most part, the guards ignored her as she stumbled past them. Their rotations in the stifling hot room were changed often, and she no longer had any sense of how much time was passing based on their duty shifts with her. They were simply there to goad her into movement or punish her if she slowed.

Slowly, methodically, one hand trailing along the rock wall for support, she continued to walk, stepping out to the left at step fifty-seven so she wouldn't bang her shin, ducking slightly at step ninety-three to avoid a low overhang. Crossing the room was the hardest part because she wasn't allowed to touch the screen walls. She had to make it the width of the room without any support, and when she was going on what felt like her thousandth repetition, those few meters might as well have been the distance from Voyager to the Alpha quadrant.

She'd thought there had been times on Voyager when she was tired, but she had never been this kind of tired on her ship. Fatigue, headaches, shorter temper, sore muscles – those things she'd experienced. Even going back to survival training at the academy, when the cadets had to last five days in the wilderness on their own with no supplies, had not been training enough to prepare her for this level of tired. This was the kind of tired where she had to concentrate to lift her foot and move it forward a half meter. It was the complete exhausted state when she saw things that she knew in stronger moments couldn't possibly be real. The vision of her sister, Phoebe, braiding a bloodied Ensign Stadi's hair had been a real gut clencher.

The reality of what awaited her when she stopped moving was also a great motivator. The trough with its ever-flowing, unending stream of lukewarm water sat callously in the middle of the room. It was why the guards were in the room with her; as soon as she fell, back into its depths she would go.

When her mind had been more active and not quite so sluggish, she'd imagined that the trough was a great beast simply waiting to devour her. Hours later, when it had blinked at her with dark eyes that began following her progress around the room, she'd forced herself to stop thinking of it as anything besides an inanimate object. To go any further down that road would surely lead to madness.

As if she wasn't halfway there already.

And where the hell was Voyager? Surely, enough time had passed for them to find her. Unless, of course, something had happened to the ship, but no, she wasn't going to think like that. They were out there, and if she knew her crew at all, they were working on a way to find and free her. She just had to gut it out until they did.

As she was about to begin her lurch across the width of the room, she heard the door of the cell open at her back. She paused, her hand slipping on the damp rock near her hip as she turned to see if it was another change of the guard. It wasn't and she immediately turned back to the task at hand, hoping he hadn't seen her notice his arrival.

But, of course, he had. He saw everything she did. It only took him a dozen strides to reach her side. "What were you looking at, Five-one?"

She shook her head, immediately regretting the motion when it made the room shift lazily out of focus. "Nothing, Magistrate."

"Are you ready for today's education session?" Augris asked.

Education, his euphemism for water-boarding her in the trough. "No, Magistrate."

"Then why have you stopped moving?"

Her pulse jumped as she realized she was still clinging to the wall in the same spot since he'd walked in the room. Ten seconds or so had passed, and that was more than long enough for them to consider her stopped. She let go of the wall and moved to step around him. He moved with her, almost completely upsetting her fragile balance.

"Today will be your third education session, Five-one," he said. "The prescribed curriculum calls for as many sessions as are needed, but I've never seen anyone make it past five sessions."

She had ten more steps to go before she reached the relative safety of the far wall. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it past today's session much less all the way to five. She already had a cough that wouldn't leave her, and her basic knowledge of drowning told her that secondary drowning had already become a very distinct possibility for her.

"I wonder if you've learned anything at all," Augris commented, taking one step for her every four, easily remaining at her side. "Can you tell me the name of a member of the Resistance?"

Her eyes flicked to the wall that was currently showing an oversized image of Kipsen, a dark-haired boy that couldn't be older than fifteen. "No."

"No?" he asked, his eyes also drifting to the projected image. He dropped his gloved hands onto her shoulders, almost buckling her knees, steering her so that she had to look at the boy's image. "Surely, you've noticed the decorations. I know he may look like an innocent boy to you, but he was responsible for the destruction of a Mokra border outpost."

Janeway stared at the image looming in front of her. He was so young, too young to be fighting against a corrupt police force. It wasn't the first time she'd had thoughts about the boy in the image. Even though she knew each one of the subversive files they had repeatedly shown by memory, she had purposefully tried not to study them. She didn't _want_ to know.

"He almost killed two members of the Mokra Order with his terrorist act," Augris continued. "He's a danger to our society."

"So you say," she managed, her eyes sliding away from the boy to look directly at Augris. "I wonder what his side of the story is."

His dark eyes glittered. "Soon enough, you'll tell me." He let his gloved hand trail along her jaw line as he moved it away from her shoulder. "But for now, it's time for our session."

He gestured to the trough and she stumbled back a step. "I haven't fallen."

"Haven't you?"

"No, I haven't," she argued. "I've been standing here talking to you. I've followed your rules." A small part of her rational mind told her it was useless, that he would do whatever he wanted regardless of her arguments, but the longer she could stay out of that damned water…

"Guard," he addressed the sentry, "Five-one seems to believe she hasn't broken any of the rules. She claims she hasn't fallen yet today."

"She's fallen twice, Magistrate," the guard replied. "Once when you walked into the room and just now when she was telling you about Subversive Twenty-three."

She backed up another stumbling step. "I didn't. I haven't fallen today."

Augris frowned. "Do you remember telling me about the boy Kipsen and how he was responsible for the bombing of a border outpost?"

"Is that the one that almost killed those two members of the Mokra?" the guard asked, joining them.

"Yes," Augris nodded, "according to what Five-one has just told me, we'll have to charge the boy with attempted murder."

"No," Janeway said, shaking. "No, y-you told me that. I only knew his name."

"You gave us his name in your last session," Augris informed her, "and today you're going to tell me even more."


	7. Chapter 6

**Ch. 6**

The sweet, citrusy smell of oranges flooded her senses. The scent tickled her nose and was so unexpected and out of place that she opened her eyes. The old man, Three-twelve, was sitting next to her slab of a bed, humming happily and eating a juicy, dark red fruit.

He noticed she was awake. "I saved half for you." He reached down by his side and came up with a half-circle of fruit the width of his palm, offering it to her. "It might help. Even if it doesn't help," he shrugged, "it won't hurt."

Moving wearily, Janeway pushed herself up to her elbow, the extra breath it took immediately caused a coughing fit, knocking her back down. It was difficult to delineate which was worse, the almost drowning that Augris kept subjecting her to, or the waking up and having to deal with the repercussions. Her head never stopped throbbing, the sensation and need to cough was only getting worse, and each time she coughed she thought her head might explode.

"Roll up to your side," Three-twelve suggested, patting her arm. "Then you can eat and the juice will help your throat."

After several shallow breaths on her back, she managed to do as he suggested. He held the fruit to her, helping guide it to her mouth when her hands shook. The sweet juice felt like honey, coating and soothing her burning throat. It was wonderful and she had to force herself to eat it slowly. Three-twelve smiled and sat back against his wall again when he saw she could handle it.

"Good, isn't it? It must be spring now for these to be in season. First weeks of the thaw, perhaps," he said thoughtfully.

"W-where did you get it?" she asked, her voice was scratchy and barely louder than a whisper, but he was close enough to hear her.

"The guards. I shine their boots. I'm better at it than most." He tried a smile. "Plenty of time to perfect my method."

She savored the last bit of fruit and then rolled onto her back, coughing a little as she moved. "Thank you."

"You should tell them what they want to hear," he said quietly after a few minutes. "It'd be easier for you."

She kept her eyes closed; even the dim light of their cell irritated her head. She'd already had this discussion with him. Three-twelve was sure they would eventually kill her if she didn't cooperate, and while she couldn't dispute that theory, she wasn't about to give Augris names of innocent people to go and slaughter.

Or, at least, she wouldn't give him any more names. He said she already had, but she didn't remember it if she had. It wasn't like she trusted anything Augris said, but there were so many things now that were foggy and jumbled in her mind. If she could just rest for a little while…

"Do you think Voyager is still looking for you?"

Janeway opened her eyes. Trying to move as carefully as possible, she rolled to her side so she could look at Three-twelve. He was staring at his hands. "How do you know about Voyager?"

He played his fingers in an unrecognizable rhythm against each other.

She pushed up to her elbow. "Three-twelve. How do you know-"

She started coughing again, hard, and Three-twelve scrambled to catch her and keep her from falling off the rock slab she was on. He steadied her by the shoulders until the coughing subsided and then helped her lie back, gently settling her down. She managed to grasp his shirt in her fingers, her eyes begging the question she couldn't yet voice again.

He wrapped her hand in both of his and kissed it. "You talk in your sleep. The dreams come to you. After…after your sessions. You talk to people that aren't here."

"Wh-ich people?" she rasped.

He thought about it, looking absently over her head. "The words are different. I guessed they were names. Tuvok. Bel-anna. Chak-otay." He shrugged, his vacant smile returning. "Are they names?"

Yes, they were names. Names of people she cared a great deal about. She nodded.

"I thought so. You tell them to look out, to run. Ask them for help. Most of the time you just mumble, but other times…" he trailed off, still patting her hand in his. "Do you think they're looking for you?"

She thought they probably were. Her best guess was that it had been a little over three weeks. Chakotay wouldn't give up on her easily. Unless they thought she was dead. She had gone down in the street that first day. B'Elanna and Tuvok might have thought she'd been killed. They might've reported back to the ship that the captain was dead. Chakotay wouldn't have liked that; he would've wanted proof.

"If they're looking," Three-twelve said quietly, "they'll never find you down here."

"They found my crewmen," she argued. And they would find her. She refused to believe they wouldn't.

Three-twelve snorted. "That was up there. Closer to the surface. Not like down here. Nothing is found down here."

She'd felt like she was deeper in the caves than she had been before. She'd had no basis for the feeling other than a sense of there being more above her, so she'd chalked it up to exhaustion and paranoia. At Three-twelve's words, the sense of claustrophobia increased. She tried to shake it off. "My crew won't give up on me."

"Then you should help them find you."

Janeway rolled her head to the side to watch him. "And how do you propose I do that?"

"Give Augris what he wants. He'll move you out of here. You can be found."

She sighed and went back to looking at the ceiling. "Even if I gave Augris the names, he wouldn't move me."

Three-twelve frowned. "What names?"

"They have files on subversives, members of the Resistance." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "He's trying to make me learn them. Something to do with the crimes they've committed." She coughed weakly. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. Obviously, he already has the files on them. What does he need me for?"

"Someone has to speak," Three-twelve muttered, getting to his feet. "Someone. To charge them."

He kept muttering, pulling nervously at his hair as he shuffled back and forth across the cell floor. Janeway watched him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He glanced at her and shook his head. "Of course. She wouldn't know."

She wanted to shake him, but getting up and doing so was completely outside of her current abilities. "Three-twelve!" He stopped. She grimaced at the added throb in her head. "Explain. Please."

His shoulders slumped and he finished his circuit, reaching the wall beside her and sliding down to sit. "Mokra can arrest. Detain. Question. Anyone. Anytime. As often as they want. In the name of security. But to charge someone. Keep them. Crimes must be official. Someone must speak against them."

"You mean someone must accuse them?"

"State their crimes." He nodded. "It's all Augris needs. _You_ are all he needs."

"Why me? Why not any Alsaurian off the street?"

"You charge someone. You get released. Everyone knows," he explained. "If you didn't…if you didn't get to go home, why cooperate? Families expect you home."

"And no one would be expecting me," she understood. "He wouldn't have to release me."

"Exactly. With you, he has an unlimited source. He feeds it to you. You give it back to him. Conviction done." He smacked his hands together. "Subversive threat contained."

Augris had already given her twenty-seven names. Twenty-six if they held up her alleged accusation of the boy, Kipsen. She massaged her temple as she listened to Three-twelve mutter to himself. As far as Augris was concerned, she was the gift that could keep on giving. All he had to do was break her.

_Everyone breaks. _

Admiral Nimembeh could've have been sitting right next to her in the cell, she remembered his voice so clearly.

_You break or you die._

Torture couldn't be defeated, it could only be resisted, and even then it could only be resisted for a finite amount of time. It was a lesson Janeway had learned before she'd ever been required to take Nimembeh's class. Gul Camet's views on torture had been both memorable and instructive; Owen's screams had driven the point home even more so.

Over the course of her study for command, Nimembeh had taught several academic lessons on how to resist torture, staying calm, knowing interrogation techniques and what to expect, but the points of instruction he always came back to were evasion and escape. Well, she'd done a bang up job of the first "E", and counting on her ship for escape when she didn't even know if it was still in orbit was not on the list of things Nimembeh had taught.

Janeway looked at her cellmate, wondering if she should even brook the subject of escape with him when another thought hit her. "Three-twelve, you said you've been here for many years."

"Hmmm?" He stopped humming, looking for all the world as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Oh. Oh, yes. Many years. Fifteen now, maybe."

"Fifteen," she breathed. "So then someone spoke against you? Someone accused you?"

"That's how it works." He nodded jerkily. "One goes free. One doesn't."

"Who went free in your place?"

"Oh." He looked down. "Well, she had to. There was no other way. Our beautiful Ralkana was so young. Barely three. She needed one of us. My sweet girl."

Janeway closed her eyes against the stunning understanding. "Your wife spoke against you?"

"The Mokra, they waited you see. Knew we'd just had another child. Wanted to silence us. They did. They did." He reached up to the wisps of hair falling over his forehead. "The boy, he'd be older now. I think. Almost a man."

A young man that had grown up without a father, a father that had been taken away by the Mokra, raised by a mother whose spirit had been broken by those same Mokra. What would that do to a person's character? She had a sinking suspicion that she knew exactly how that might motivate a young man to take action against those he felt were responsible.

Hoping against hope, she asked, "What's your son's name?"

Three-twelve gave her a genuine smile. "We named him after his uncle on my wife's side. Good strong name. We named him Kipsen."


	8. Chapter 7

**Ch. 7**

As soon as she was escorted into the cavernous room, she knew the day was going to be different. Augris was already there, and based on the water splashing out of the trough, he wasn't alone. Her empty stomach clenched at having to watch someone else go through what she'd faced in this room.

Augris looked up. "Ah, Five-one," he gestured to a chair behind him, "please, have a seat."

The guard at her back immediately prodded her forward, not giving her a chance to hesitate. He walked her alongside the trough where the thrashing was lessening. She looked anywhere but at the trough, not wanting to see whatever panicked face was trapped under the water.

When the last ripple of water smoothed, Augris leaned forward and released the drain valve on the trough. Within seconds there was a gasp of breath, followed by coughing that Janeway herself was all too familiar with.

Augris looked casually over his shoulder at her. "I finally figured out why you are so resilient to this technique of questioning."

Resilient? She was considered resilient? She glared at him, waiting for his precious gem of information, hoping it would be something she could use.

"You see this young man," Augris gestured to the trough, "is terrified. He's been terrified since the moment the water began to cover him. But you-"

Janeway didn't hear what exactly she was. She'd looked at the boy in the trough, the trough that was already beginning to refill again. The boy's coughing had barely subsided, but he was already struggling against the restraints, pleading with Augris, the guards, and then he made eye contact with her. When she didn't look away, he thought he'd found hope. She couldn't understand everything he was saying, but she knew what he meant. He was begging her to help him. To save him.

Augris laughed, a cold, dry chuckle that held no humor, and rapped his knuckles on the side of the trough to gain the boy's attention. "Don't look to her for help, boy. She's the one who spoke against you."

And then she recognized him. Kipsen. He was soaking wet, bruised, and probably twenty kilos lighter than the image of him that had been paraded in front of her, but now he was unmistakable to her. At Augris' words, the boy looked back to her, and she tried to deny it, but something in him broke in comprehension of her role, and his gaze slid away from her.

"No." Two heavy hands on her shoulders kept her in the seat as the water in the trough climbed higher up the sides of Kipsen's face. "Let him go," she began, coughing. "I didn't…speak against him."

"I know you believe that," Augris nodded, ignoring her argument, watching the boy struggle against his own fears and the water as it sluiced over his face, "but you'll speak against the others."

"No. I won't," she swore.

Augris half-turned to look at her; he appeared genuinely puzzled. "If it's not the boy or some other subversive in there, it's you."

"Then let it be me," she begged. "Release him!"

Augris continued to look at her, quizzically for a moment, then shook his head and returned his attention to the trough. "No, I don't think so. I imagine in just a few short minutes this boy will be ready to give me several names. Names that I may not even know yet." Water splashed out of the trough and hit his boot. He scowled at the thrashing boy and moved his chair back a bit. "Was I correct in my assumption?"

She couldn't take her eyes off the water. A stun wand had been pressed against her side and she knew the slightest act of defiance would earn her a powerful amount of current. It might be a blessing. "What assumption?"

"That the reason you do so well in the water is because your planet, or wherever it is that you're from, has an abundance of water?"

The trough was still, and she felt herself holding her breath along with the boy. "Yes," she said, finally. "My planet has more water than land."

"I thought so," he said, kicking the drain valve open. "You have an advantage over Alsaurians in that regard. Here, water is for drinking, and even those stores are limited."

When the boy breached the surface and gasped for air, Janeway raised her eyes to Augris. "And yet you waste it by the liter here."

"On the contrary, it's being put to very good use." He'd let the water drain almost completely out this time. "It's helping insure the security of my world, just like you are. Just like this boy will, now that he's been educated." He leaned over the trough. "Do you have anything to say, son?"

"P-pl-please…s-stop. N-no more…pl-ease."

Augris placed his gloved hand on the boy's chest. "I have to do what's required of me."

"S-sorry…I'm s-sorry. D-don't. Please."

The boy was openly sobbing and Augris managed to make his voice sound almost grandfatherly. "I can stop this, but only-"

"Yes! Pl-ease…I c-can't…" the boy interrupted already feeling the water begin to fill the enclosed space again.

"You're ready to do your duty for our planet then?" Augris asked. "You'll tell me who helped you commit your crimes?"

It was evident to Janeway that the boy tried to resist. He hesitated in answering Augris, hesitated until Augris sighed and removed his hand from the boy's chest. Even if it was someone as despicable as Augris, that severed connection to a person outside the water was more than the boy could take.

"Y-yes," he cried. "It was Telrim! H-he showed me…how to…"

"How to kill people," Augris supplied. "How to make explosives and commit terrorist acts?"

"Yes," Kipsen sobbed.

Augris gave another theatrical sigh as he mulled over the boy's answers, allowing the water to creep further up the boy's face as he did so. Janeway had already received two short jolts from the stun wand for struggling against the guards. She could only imagine they were under orders not to incapacitate her or they would have done worse. Augris wanted her to see.

Kipsen spit against the water that was threatening to cover his mouth. "Please Magistrate! Please!"

"Very well," Augris said as though pained. He kicked open the valve again and turned to Janeway, a smirk of confidence clearly evident on his face. Addressing the guards behind her, he said, "You know what to do with him. Get him out of there and I'll join you in a few minutes for his statement."

"Aye, Magistrate."

Augris and Janeway waited in silence, watching each other as the guards lifted the gasping, sobbing boy out of the trough and dragged him out of the room.

"You know I won't break like that," Janeway said, holding the magistrate's gaze. "I'll die before I do."

"Yes, I imagine you will," Augris agreed, "but still I think we'll try. There are, after all, those twenty-six other names you're going to give me."

"You don't need me for this vendetta of yours," she argued. "I _never_ gave you that boy's name."

"The Council of Law will accept my word that you gave us one name, but for twenty-six names I'm afraid they'll want proof. They'll want to see the recording of you accusing those twenty-six subversives before they will convict them." He gestured in the direction they'd taken the boy. "Now, you're an established witness. I'm about to receive a confession from the one person you're on record as having already accused. When you see fit to turn in the other members of the Resistance, no one will question your credibility."

Janeway snorted. "You'll kill me before that happens."

"Perhaps." He looked to a guard still stationed by the door. "That's all for today. She can be returned to her cell."

The guard nodded, motioned for her to join him. Her audience with the magistrate was over. She'd reached the guard's side when Augris stopped her.

"I almost forgot, Five-one." He withdrew a large, deep red fruit the size of a grapefruit from a pouch on his belt. "Here's your reward for cooperation." He tossed it to her. "Perhaps, you'll wish to share it with your cellmate. I know he enjoys those around this time of year."

* * *

By the time she was shoved back into her cell, fruit juice dribbled through her clenched fingers. The pressure she'd applied to the fruit had ruptured the skin. Every bit of training she'd ever had forced her not to simply discard the fruit, a viable food source, but the idea of choking it down was appalling. It wouldn't be something she could savor; it would be the taste of betrayal.

Hers.

His.

Three-twelve was on his feet when she entered the cell, and he smiled at her. "You're awake. That's different. And dry, too?"

More juice ran over her knuckles. "Yes."

The sweet scent of citrus flooded their small space. He looked at the fruit clenched in her hand, sorrow crossing his features even as he nodded. "Good. For you…good."

She held out the fruit to him. "You know what this means?"

"Oh. You should be more careful," he said, turning her hand over to see the stains left by the trickles of juice. "_Plusas_ are delicate. Especially this time of year. Makes them more valuable."

Janeway shoved the fruit into his chest, backing him up several steps to the wall. "I don't care about the fruit, Three." She coughed, the light exertion irritating her lungs. "Do you know what it means that I have it?"

He wouldn't look at her, but he nodded.

"Tell me what it means, Three."

"It means. It means Augris is pleased." He started pulling on his hair again. "You did what he wanted. It's a reward."

"That's right." She backed off a step. "Now tell me what you did."

He shook his head. "Haven't done anything."

"You had a piece of this fruit yesterday," she reminded him. "How did you get it?"

"I shine boots."

"No." Janeway shook her head. "You did something for Augris. What did you do that he gave you a reward?"

"Boots," he insisted. "Mokra like their boots to be just so. And black." He tugged at the hair by his ear. "Very black. Shiny."

She caught his hand and held it up to his face. "You don't have a trace of polish on your hands, Three."

Even after she let go of his hand, he stared at it. "I'm good at it, you know. I do it better than anyone. That's what they tell me."

He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the stone floor, his fingers manipulating something only he could see, and she sat too, feeling more tired than anything.

_I told them everything I could think of._

That's what Admiral Paris had admitted to her after their incident with the Cardassians. Anything to make the pain stop. It's what Camet had guaranteed she would've done. Three-twelve was broken; being mad at him accomplished nothing. She placed the bruised fruit on the corner of the slab she sat on and grimaced at the sticky remnants coating her hand.

"Three-twelve," she started, rubbing her hand against her pants leg, "did you talk to Augris yesterday?"

"Yes," he answered, still twisting an imaginary object between his hands, "he gave me the _plusa_. Very fresh."

"When did you talk to him yesterday?" she asked. "Was it while I was gone?"

"No, no," he shook his head. "You were back. Asleep. Trembling. Still wet."

She hated the mental image that drew for her. She knew she was in bad shape whenever they brought her back to the cell, but it wasn't something she liked to think about. "Was he here when they brought me back? Did you talk to him then?"

Three-twelve brightened and actually looked at her. "Yes. Yes, I think…maybe. No, not right away. I'd gotten you up."

"Up?"

He patted the slab where she sat and always woke up. "Guards drag you in and leave. Don't want you catching cold on the floor."

"So every time, you've laid me up here?" she asked.

He nodded. "Put you on your side. Helps ease the sick."

"I didn't know. Thank you."

The gratitude seemed to make him uncomfortable, and he went back to his invisible puzzle. "It'll go bad, you know?"

"What will?"

He glanced over at her forgotten fruit. "You cracked the shell. You should eat it before it dries."

She picked it up and offered it to him. "You want to halve it for us? I'll probably make a mess of it if I try." He accepted it and began pulling at it in different directions, bits of pulp squelching out over his fingers. She tried again, "So, you said you talked to Augris yesterday?"

"Yes." There was a slight tearing sound as the _plusa_ split apart into two perfect halves in his hands.

Janeway accepted half and gestured for Three to keep the other half. "What did you talk about?"

He slurped a wedge of fruit between his teeth. "You. Mostly."

"Me?" she tried to sound surprised, but it was what she had feared. "What about me?"

Three-twelve shrugged. "What you and I talk about. How you're doing."

"Does he ask about my ship?"

"Oh, yes. And your friends. But mostly you."

She had to choke down the mouthful of fruit. "And what do you tell him?"

"That you're strong. Stronger than him." He beamed at her, pride shining bright in his eyes. "That you'll be the one…the one to beat the Mokra."


	9. Chapter 8

**Ch. 8**

Three-twelve may have just as well as given her a death sentence. His misguided belief and uncensored mind were going to get her killed. Augris may not have brought it up in her previous session, distracted as he had been with the boy, but she had no doubt that he'd been thinking very hard on everything Three-twelve had told him. She knew she would be the one to suffer his displeasure when the time came.

So far, her session today was starting out like all the others. If she had any sense of time left, she'd been walking around the room for over an hour. The biographies of the subversives were playing repeatedly and now included the crimes they'd allegedly committed, complete with graphic images and video.

Her reprieve from the trough had been good for her. She hated the price that had been paid for her to have it, but she definitely felt stronger for having stayed dry. She knew, especially with Three-twelve's misplaced bravado, that today Augris would press her even harder for information. Unless something else attracted his attention.

And maybe something had. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if he was later than usual to check in on her progress. The guards, of course, said nothing to her, and asking wasn't the sort of thing that was encouraged behavior. So, she just rolled her shoulders and tried to ignore the propaganda being shown on the walls. Unfortunately, this led to her thinking about Voyager.

If they were going to do something to help her, she would have expected them to have done it by now. The more time passed, the grimmer her situation became, but she also couldn't help thinking more dire thoughts about her ship as well. What if Voyager had been attacked? What if the planet's robust defense network had destroyed her ship? No. She had to shake off that line of thinking. She could drive herself crazy with what-ifs and doomsday scenarios.

But she had to confront the possibility that she wasn't going to receive any help, in which case, she needed to help herself. She'd tried escaping more than once during the first days they'd held her captive. The consequences had been brutal. When she'd heard about Tuvok and B'Elanna's escape, she'd been content to give patience a try. Her patience had dried up with her indoctrination to the trough.

The room and her cell weren't viable options for escape; she knew every nook, cranny, and pebble of both. The only time she had a shot in hell of managing an escape was when they moved her from her cell to the room with the trough. She was usually unconscious when they took her back to the cell, but the mornings would be her best chance. The first several trips her guard had always numbered at least four, but this morning she noticed her Mokra escort had consisted of only two guards. It wouldn't be the best fight she'd ever had, but she was reasonably certain she could handle two guards. She'd just have to choose her moment carefully. She started mentally retracing the route they walked, identifying the best point for her-

The door to the room slammed open, making her and both of the guards jump. Augris stormed in, took a stun baton from one of the guards, and stalked towards her. She had the fleeting, amusing notion of running away from him, making him chase her around the room, but she stood her ground, waiting the few seconds it took him to close the distance.

As soon as he was close, he raised the baton, and with a felling force, landed it across the side of her head. Stunned, she didn't even feel the impact of the floor when she hit it. Darkness tunneled her vision, and then more pain exploded in her abdomen as he landed a ferocious kick. Moving instinctively, she curled up, trying to protect organs from more strikes, but her head was yanked, gloved fingers wrapping in her hair, pulling her back until Augris' face loomed in front of hers.

"I'm losing patience with you, Five-one," he snarled. "Two Mokra officers were killed last night in an attack by the subversives. An attack which could have been prevented if you'd been more cooperative."

She could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears, but she got the gist. People had died. He blamed her.

"Let's see if we can't loosen that tongue of yours today, shall we?" It was more of a promise than a question. "If you thought the current from these wands was painful, if you thought the water was insidious, wait until you've felt them working together."

He let go of her hair, dropping her back to the floor. She watched blearily as he straightened, his perfectly polished boots turning away, carrying him back towards the door. Water and electricity don't mix. It was all she could think. If the energy released from the stun batons worked the same way electricity did with water, today would be the day Augris killed her. She'd waited too long. As the guards' boots closed in on her, she stopped fighting the dark and let it take her for as long as it would have her.

* * *

Augris had, unfortunately, not killed her. It hurt to move. To breathe. To exist, even. But she did. She lived.

She was cold, shivering, body aching and slowly waking up to the view of a damp stone floor. Her brain took its time organizing the view, and she realized she was still in the interrogation room. A wave of nausea swept over her at the realization that she was staring at the trough's support beams. Her arm twitched and she felt the sucking itch of liquid trapped between her face and the floor. The inside of her mouth tasted coppery, and she managed to spit out a small amount of blood that had begun to pool against the inside of her cheek.

A chair scraped against the floor, and she flinched at the horrendously loud sound. Boots scuffed their way around the trough. She didn't have the strength to look, but she felt the agonizing pain as someone toed her side, pushing her over onto her back. She arched against the too-sore muscles coming into contact with the floor; a strangled groan escaped as she slowly inevitably sank back against the unyielding stone.

"So, you're awake then, are you?" A gloved hand gripped her jaw, forcing her mouth open and simultaneously driving spikes through her temples. "Looks like you bit your tongue," the voice chuckled. "That happens."

The only coherent thought she could muster was that it wasn't Augris looming over her. Her vision was so blurred she didn't know who it was, but she knew it wasn't Augris. Anything else that was said washed over her as incomprehensible noise: noise that made her head pound and feel like her brain was two sizes too large for her skull. The shivering wasn't helping matters, but between the wet clothes clinging to her and the stone floor, it was all her body could do to generate heat. The irony was not lost on her that she had once thought the room was ungodly warm.

"Hey. Wake up." Something hard tapped against her cheekbone. "You want a little current to warm you up?"

Her eyes focused on the black tip of the stun wand held in front of her face. Then she saw it from a different angle, held over her as water covered most of her body, watching as the dark baton was lowered into the water with her. The flash of memory made her gasp, and she flinched away from the guard as he touched her jaw with the wand, but there was no shock this time.

"You have to tell me what you want," he said, dragging it down her neck, stopping at her chest, "or what you don't want. Otherwise, I'll have to assume."

She tried, but her throat was so raw that, at first, no sound came out. She tried swallowing, almost gagging on the coppery taste of what little saliva she had but finally managed, "Pl-ease…don't."

It was a concession. A fairly large concession on her part. Something she'd managed to not do up until now. Asking…begging…

"You've been saying that for hours," he laughed. "Don't you have anything new to say?"

She had? All of her thoughts were coming through in destroyed bits and pieces. She couldn't remember. She tried to think. What else had she said?

The guard rapped her face again. He was no longer blurry but there were three of him. "Hey! Time to wake up, subvert. It's time to go again."

Go? Go where? Then she felt herself being dragged to her feet and she was able to see the water-filled trough. "No!" She flailed against the guards holding her up, her muscles barely obeying, moving her arms more like clubs than the actual jointed appendages that they supposedly were. Miraculously, she managed to hit the guard that had been laughing right across the bridge of his nose. Everyone froze at the contact, and a small trickle of blood oozed down to the guard's lip.

He swiped it away and all the sick humor left his face. "You're going to pay for that."

She shook her head. She hadn't meant it. She'd just been trying to get away. If she'd intended damage, she would've done far worse than that. "I…"

He grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the trough, toppling her half in and half out. The edge cut painfully into her back as she went in head first, water rushing up her nose and into her mouth. He pulled her up, her hands scrabbling uselessly against the hold he had on her neck, and he dunked her under again, this time kicking her legs in as well. Water sloshed out, but he held her down, keeping her under the water as she fought against him. Then his weight pinning her down was gone and she shot up, dragging herself up by the sides of the trough, gasping and choking for air, retching up the water she'd inhaled.

When she finally got her breathing slightly under control, she looked up. Augris had the guard pinned against the wall, holding a stun wand at the man's temple. Augris saw her watching, held her gaze, and moved his thumb against the baton's controls. She heard the zap of current and saw the guard stiffen and fall to the floor. Augris turned his back on him.

"Current applied directly to the cranium kills," he explained, tracing the tip of the inert baton along her temple. "That's another death on your hands today. I wonder how many more it will take." He sheathed the wand and motioned to a guard. "Get her out of there. Then bring the other one in."

Other one? What other one? And then she saw. As they carried out the fallen guard, she saw Three-twelve being escorted into the room.


	10. Chapter 9

**Ch. 9**

Three-twelve was clearly nervous as he was herded further into the room. He tapped his fingers together, playing with his invisible puzzle while he looked down. "M-magistrate."

"Three-twelve, I'm so glad you could join us," Augris said, striding over to him and putting a companionable arm across the slighter man's shoulders.

Three-twelve's eyes flicked up to Janeway as he was walked closer. He glanced once in the direction of the trough and then back to the floor. "She's wet again."

"Yes, she is. Five-one is a very uneducated female, Three-twelve. She simply refuses to learn." Augris removed his arm from Three-twelve's shoulders. "But that's why I've brought you here."

"Leave him out of this," she managed, her body trembling.

"Why don't you have a seat, Five-one," Augris said solicitously, "before you hurt yourself."

A guard's hand clamped down on Janeway's shoulder, pushing her into the chair.

"Now, Three-twelve, I need your help with a problem," Augris continued. "You'll help me, won't you?"

Three-twelve nodded. "I'll…help."

"I know you will, because you understand how important it is to cooperate, don't you, Three-twelve?"

"Cooperate. Yes." He was visibly shaking. "I shine boots good. Don't I?"

"Yes, you do, but that's not what I need your help with today. Today, I need your help with her." He pointed at Janeway. "She doesn't understand cooperation and how important it is. Will you help me teach her, Three-twelve?"

"Leave him alone."

"Quiet," Augris snapped at her. "She simply won't learn. Three-twelve, I need your help."

"No."

With Three-twelve's single, quietly-uttered word, Janeway felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. She couldn't see Augris' face, but she knew by the way he had suddenly frozen that he had heard it too. She shook her head, attempting to deny that Three-twelve had said anything, tried to get to her feet, but the guard easily held her in place as Augris refocused his attention.

"What did you say?"

Three-twelve never looked up from his study of the invisible puzzle. "No. Won't help you. Not with her."

Augris studied the man before him, ignoring the grunts behind him as the guard stunned Janeway to keep her still. "Is it possible, that after all this time, you've forgotten what we taught you? Have you forgotten the pain you put your wife through?"

Three-twelve shook his head. "No. Haven't forgotten."

"What about your children? Have you forgotten them?"

"No."

"No?" Augris repeated. "What was your son's name? Kipsen or something."

Three-twelve finally looked up, his hands dropping down to his sides in fists.

"Yes, that was it. We've kept tabs on him, you know," Augris continued, "tried to insure he wasn't following in his father's footsteps." He sighed, never taking his eyes off his attentive audience of one. "Unfortunately, we were unsuccessful. He and his sister became quite the young terrorists. We convicted him of attempted murder only this morning. It's only a matter of time before we get the girl as well."

"No. No, you're lying." Three-twelve shook his head. "You're always lying."

"Why don't you ask her if I'm lying?" Augris pointed at Janeway. "She is, after all, the one who spoke against your son. Accused him, when truthfully, she'd never even seen him before."

Three-twelve looked to her, his breathing faster than usual.

"I didn't," she said. "You know I wouldn't. Don't listen to-"

Augris sniffed. "She was slightly out of her mind at the time. Broken. Weak. She was willing to say anything to save her own skin."

Three-twelve surprised them all when he smiled, his whole body relaxed and the dark look left his eyes. Then he started laughing.

It wasn't anything more than a small breathless little chuckle, but it terrified Janeway and absolutely infuriated Augris. "Put him in the trough!"

"No!"

Augris turned on her. "I'm growing tired of hearing that word today." He turned on the flow of water, higher and faster than usual. "You control his fate, Janeway. He lives or he dies-"

Three-twelve laughed louder. "You called her by her name. You called her Janeway." The guards had him secured, but he didn't even seem to notice the water. "She's stronger than you, _Augris_," he chuckled at his own daring. "You won't win with her."

With a supreme force of will, Augris seemed to try and calm himself. "Give me the names of the subversives, Five-one. Give me the names or he will die."

"Don't tell him, Janeway," Three-twelve laughed again. "Janeway. I like your name."

"You don't have to do this," she tried. "Let him go. He's harmless."

"The names of the subversives," Augris repeated.

She glanced at the trough, knew it was filling quickly. "Telrim," she said. "Telrim is one of the members of the Resistance."

Augris jerked her to her feet, pulling her to stand next to the trough where she could clearly see the water was already halfway up Three-twelve's face. "Telrim," Augris growled in her ear, "is the subversive that was already accused by the boy. Try again, Five-one."

"Don't tell him," Three-twelve said, still smiling. "Don't let him," he had to spit against the water beginning to cover his face, "win."

"It's up to you, Five-one. Are you going to let this man die simply for your pride?" Augris spoke directly against her ear. "He's going to drown unless you save him."

She wanted to, but even under the water she could see Three-twelve give a little shake of his head, the smallest movement allowed by the restraints. Swallowing hard, she gave him a nod and resolved herself. She looked up at Augris, meeting his silent gaze with one of her own. It was the longest, most agonizing moment of her life. There was a muffled bump against the trough, a second one, and then the room was quiet except for the sound of running water.

She locked her knees to keep from collapsing, wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to weep. But not in front of Augris. Never in front of him would she show weakness.

"Another death on your hands today then," Augris finally spoke. "You let him die for your pride. How pathetic."

She held his gaze, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. "He didn't die for my pride. He died for those twenty-six people that you want me to accuse. He died so they could live. He died for the Resistance."

"A wasted life," Augris scoffed. "Eventually, you'll give me those names, and his sacrifice will have been for nothing."

"I'll never give you those names."

"Everyone breaks," Augris said. "I just have to find the right place to apply the pressure." He straightened the front of his uniform and glanced down at the trough. "Take her back to her cell. I think she'll enjoy some time alone to reflect on what she's done here today."


	11. Chapter 10

**Ch. 10**

If he was looking for a great way to apply pressure, he'd found it. Leaving Janeway alone with her thoughts and nothing else was a different but all too effective torture in itself. At first, it had been fine; her exhausted body had readily accepted the release of sleep. She had no idea how long she had slept, but given how stiff she'd been upon waking, she'd guess it had been more than a day, possibly much more, and yet Augris hadn't come for her. The inside of her mouth had been bone dry, and for a short while, she thought that perhaps dehydration was to be her new punishment. They must have been monitoring her though because a ration bar and two water cubes had been shoved in through the door not long after she'd woken.

And that was the full extent of her contact for more hours than she cared to think about. The lighting level never changed. She couldn't see the guards to judge their rotation times, and the amount of rest her body needed made it impossible to judge anything accurately. She slept often, wondering in her waking hours why they were allowing her to rest.

She'd explored the extent of the cell multiple times, utilized the waste bucket Three-twelve had kept in the darker corner of the small area. She'd picked up the two small rocks that were so smooth Three-twelve had obviously worried them for long periods. The thought of him, passing the time with the two stones, probably humming as he did, brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back and put the rocks back on the small crevice that acted as a shelf where she'd found them. She hoped that she wouldn't need them for her own entertainment.

Occasionally, she'd wake from a nap and find another ration bar and water cube waiting for her. It disturbed her that she'd been tired enough to sleep through the arrival of such items, but then, like a switch being flipped, her body decided she'd rested enough. For long hours she couldn't sleep, couldn't even close her eyes for more than a minute or two without feeling restless. When she did manage to nod off, she woke to the slightest sound: a guard coughing further down the hall, the occasional walk down the corridor, even a shift in air pressure had caught her attention.

And then, she began to have other ways to pass the time.

When she slept, it was on the rock slab that was a vague step up from sleeping on the identical rock floor. The first time it happened, she'd been lying on her back, awake, trying to recite in order every Starfleet regulation she could remember. That particular test at the academy had always been considered a bit superfluous by the cadets as there was always a computer willing to recite any regulation that could be needed for any given situation, but for Janeway's current situation it was proving rather stimulating. She'd just made it to regulation one hundred ninety one when she heard the humming and all thoughts about regulations and Starfleet had dissolved in an instant.

Three-twelve had hummed; anytime he'd played with his invisible puzzle he'd invariably hummed. It had been quiet enough that she'd been able to block it out for the most part, but hearing it now in the utterly empty cell was rather disturbing. She tried closing her eyes against it, tried desperately to regain her track of thought, but that only made the humming grow louder.

She wasn't going to look. There was no one there. She could too easily picture Three-twelve's slack face under the still water and _knew_ he wasn't there in the cell with her. He was dead. But the humming was the same tune he'd usually gotten stuck on and slowly, she turned her head to the side, effortlessly taking in the entire view of the small cell.

It was empty, just as it should be, and it was quiet. The humming had stopped. Her eyes flicked to the door, checking for shadows of a passing guard, or even a guard purposefully humming outside her door, but she saw nothing.

Taking a breath, she returned her attention to the ceiling and began searching her memory to pick up where she'd left off with the regulations, when the sickly sweet smell of citrus tickled her nose. Janeway sat up, peering around the cell, even going to the door and looking more closely for shadows, but she was alone. And the scent, as quickly as it had come, disappeared. "All right, Captain," she muttered to herself, "keep it together."

She sat back down, rolled her head from side to side, and closed her eyes in concentration. Regulation one hundred ninety two was a direct offset of regulation one hundred ninety one. Some argued that it should have simply been made a subsection. Regulation one hundred ninety two stated-

The humming started again. Instantly her eyes were open, her breath catching in her chest, but there was nothing there. It was just a trick of the mind. She knew that. She'd been half expecting it, but it also worried her that it had started. Was this the beginning of a downward mental spiral for her? She thought it hadn't been long enough, at least she didn't feel as if it had been long enough. She still felt rational. Her mind was still active. She hadn't lost hope, and yet, she could still hear the humming.

She got to her feet, shaking out her hands and arms, walking the small circuit of the cell, anything to get the blood flowing. When she turned to walk the few paces back to the slab, she froze on the spot. It had only been five steps. That wasn't enough for someone to have come in and out of the cell. Alsaurians didn't have transporter technology, and yet sitting there on the slab she had so recently vacated was a perfectly ripe _plusa_.

After staring at it for several moments, hoping it would disappear, she sighed, "Great."

* * *

She heard the commotion out in the hall long before anyone reached her door. Hating herself for doing it, she glanced at Three-twelve to see if he was reacting to the noise too, but apparently, he only interacted with her now. Three-twelve was still dead. In her heart of hearts and mind of minds she knew that. She staked a lot of her sanity on that fact, but it didn't make the version of him she could now see and hear go away. At least, she'd gotten him to vacate the slab and let her sit there instead of on the floor.

She got to her feet, her back against the wall when her cell door opened and Augris stepped inside. "Hello Five-one," he said cordially. "My apologies for leaving you alone for so long, but we did have quite a bit of excitement to tend to." He glanced around the cell, looking right past the version of Three-twelve that was humming quietly to himself. "I hope you haven't become too lonely here by yourself."

"I enjoyed the quiet," she answered. She resisted the urge to glare at Three-twelve, hoping he'd take the hint. The last thing she needed was Augris to know she now had an imaginary friend.

"I'm sure you did." He tossed her a water cube. "I suppose if you want it to stay quiet, you'll just have to make those arrangements with your new cell mate." He snapped his fingers towards the open door and two guards appeared, dragging in a dripping, unconscious figure, which they dropped to the floor as soon as they cleared the doorway.

The telltale gold and black uniform was gone, but Janeway could see just enough of the woman's face peeking through the curtain of wet hair to easily recognize her officer. "B'Elanna!"

She fell to her knees, quickly checking for a pulse and sighing in relief when her trembling fingers found one. Fury swelled beneath her breast bone. "You son of a-"

Augris had anticipated her anger and was already aiming a disruptor at her head when she spun. He chuckled as she froze, still half-kneeling, glaring up at him. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"What have you done to her?"

"After being captured at the scene of a Resistance operation, she was relegated to my custody. Much like you, she refuses to see reason." He lowered the disruptor. "She's just had her first education lesson."

Janeway kept a hand on B'Elanna's shoulder, feeling the tremors that were still racking the engineer's body. "It's not education; it's torture."

Augris smiled, his eyes glittering at how protective she was of her crewman. "I think perhaps tomorrow the two of you will have a joint session. We'll see then if you've managed to learn anything during your time here."

She glared him all the way out of her cell, the only recourse she had at her disposal, before returning her attention to B'Elanna. She smoothed the younger woman's hair away from her face and looked her over for other injuries. The skin over the engineer's shoulder blade was inflamed, displaying eight characters that definined her intake number. Janeway didn't touch them, but her hand hovered briefly over the mark, finally knowing what it looked like. Aside from the etching, she found only bruises and some light swelling. Knowing first-hand the protocol the Mokra enjoyed using, she felt it was safe to reposition her officer.

"Let's get you off the floor at least," she muttered, slipping her arms underneath the half-Klingon. She strained against the dead weight, cursing her dilapidated strength, but eventually managing to lift the engineer the short distance to the slab. Remembering Three-twelve's words about her being sick after sessions, she propped B'Elanna so that she lay on her side.

Out of breath and unable to do anything more, Janeway slid down the wall next to the slab. Her head pounded from the exertion, and she sipped from the water cube Augris had given her. "Now we wait."

Three-twelve grunted an agreement and began humming again. If her head didn't already hurt she'd pound it against the wall.


	12. Chapter 11

**Ch. 11**

As expected, B'Elanna woke up swinging, startling Janeway enough that her humming delusion even disappeared. "B'Elanna!"

Wild eyes found hers and after a few heavy breaths, the Klingon actually laughed. "Captain!" Her eyes widened. "Your hair-"

She started coughing before she could say anything more and Janeway slid up to sit beside her, resisting the urge to thump the younger woman on the back, and settling instead for tucking loose hair back behind her ear for the millionth time since they'd cut it.

"Sure am…glad to find you," B'Elanna finally managed, straightening up. "We've been worried…about you."

Janeway glanced at the door. "Is Voyager here?"

B'Elanna shook her head slightly. "No. Too risky."

She had to agree. "And getting yourself captured wasn't?"

"That part," the engineer coughed, "hasn't exactly gone according to plan."

"So, there is a plan?"

B'Elanna took her time answering, taking a few deep breaths and looking around the cell before answering. "There was."

"Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna heard the implied order for an explanation and changed the subject. "What about you, Captain? Are you all right? I swear I thought they'd killed you that day in the street."

Janeway put a hand to the spot on her neck where the Mokra weapon's fire had grazed her. It had definitely caused more damage than any phaser stun. "I'm fine."

B'Elanna watched her. She'd seen the flutter in the captain's hand when she'd reached for her neck. "Uh huh, and have you been treated to their education process as well?"

Janeway nodded but her gaze was fixed on the far wall of the cell. B'Elanna looked and saw nothing. She took the moment of inattention to more closely scrutinize the woman beside her. The chopped hair was obvious but hardly the worst that could be expected. Janeway was definitely thinner than she'd been last time B'Elanna had seen her, paler than usual too which served to highlight the dark smudges under her eyes and a few yellowing bruises. She was not the picture of health, but given Tuvok's treatment at Augris' hands, she didn't look as bad as had been feared either.

"Captain?" The normally blue eyes snapped to hers, but B'Elanna couldn't see any color at all in them. Strands of uneven auburn fell across Janeway's face, making her look younger, more vulnerable. B'Elanna was tempted to reach up and tuck the hair back herself. "Is everything all right?"

Janeway closed her eyes and B'Elanna could see the tension in her jaw as her fist clenched in her lap. "Tell me, Lieutenant," she spoke finally, "are we the only ones in this cell?"

B'Elanna's eyebrows probably met her ridges, but she was truly surprised at the question. And alarmed. "Yes, Captain."

The older woman sighed. "I thought as much."

"But you felt the need to confirm it?" B'Elanna asked, a cursory glance of their surroundings just to be certain.

Janeway's face crumpled for a brief moment before she managed to control it. She laughed quietly and could hear the note of hysteria in it. "He won't stop _humming_."

Now B'Elanna was truly concerned. "Who, Captain?"

The captain's shoulders slumped, her fists relaxed, and she closed her eyes, flinching as if she'd heard a musician hit a wrong note.

B'Elanna waited, then asked again. "Who won't stop humming, Captain?"

Janeway opened her eyes, looking more tired than B'Elanna had ever seen her. "The man I killed."

She hesitated for only a second. "What do you mean you killed someone, Captain?"

"As good as." Janeway gestured vaguely towards the left. "You'd been here, what? Fifteen years?" she asked, turning to the empty part of the cell. "Knows me all of a few days and I get him killed."

B'Elanna slid off the rock slab so she could kneel at Janeway's left, putting herself in the older woman's direct line of sight. As close as she was, she could see why Janeway's eyes looked so dark. There was only a sliver of blue iris showing around very dilated pupils. "Captain, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't even know his name," Janeway whispered, clutching at the engineer's forearm.

Even through the thin material of the jumpsuit they'd dressed her in, B'Elanna could feel how cold Janeway's hands were. "Captain, you're freezing."

She didn't seem to notice and didn't resist when B'Elanna took both her hands between her own, and began trying to warm them. B'Elanna didn't know anything about medical training past the academy's mandatory first aid class. She hadn't even stayed long enough to take the advanced wilderness survival portion they offered to upper classmen, but she did know that shared body heat was as good as any blanket she'd find in this place.

She sat down on the slab next to Janeway and put her arm around the older woman's shoulders, pulling her against her side. Sitting so close, she could actually feel the captain shiver and tremble. She rubbed her hand up and down Janeway's outside arm, trying to generate some warmth for her. "Why didn't you say something?"

Janeway didn't answer and B'Elanna looked down to see she'd fallen asleep against her side. "PetaQ," she muttered. "Didn't Starfleet teach you to ask for help when you need it?"

Leaning to the side, she rested her head against Janeway's and tried to think of what else she could do besides wait. Her back itched where they'd given her some sort of inmate identifier, and she hoped the EMH would be able to remove it. Augris had seemed to think it would be permanent, but the Mokra didn't know Voyager's doctor. The hologram had an ego the size of Jupiter and would probably find a way to rid them of the unwanted marking out of spite.

She'd known before coming back to the planet that the waiting portion of the plan was going to be the worst, but damned if it wasn't already driving her nuts. She was thankful though. She'd found the captain and that had been the biggest gamble. It'd almost been considered to be just a fact finding mission for her, Tuvok, and Neelix. Thankfully, Ana, a young woman in the Resistance, had been able to confirm that Janeway was still, in fact, alive. Resistance sources inside the prison reported that Augris had taken a personal interest in the alien captain and had plans for her.

Chakotay hadn't taken the news well and had looked the other way when B'Elanna and Neelix had loaded up extra supplies of emergency rations and water to take with them to the planet. The Resistance had problems of their own and weren't going to help them make their way into the prison for nothing. B'Elanna had been able to tell that Tuvok hadn't really approved of giving supplies to the Resistance, but he hadn't protested too much either. She wondered if that had to do with his recent treatment at the hands of the Mokra or because it was the captain who was in trouble.

Tuvok wasn't really a bad sort; he'd even made a pretty good Maquis and gotten them out of a couple of tight jams before the Caretaker had come along. He was just a bit stiff around the edges. He'd wanted to be the one to be captured, but the Resistance had cautioned against it. He'd already been interrogated once by the Mokra; if recaptured, his treatment at their hands would be far worse than it had been the first time. The Mokra would already know his weaknesses. There were also very few female prisoners and even if they weren't housed in the same cell together, females were usually kept in the same wing. B'Elanna had a better chance of being housed closer to Janeway than Tuvok did and for their transporter idea to work, she needed to be close. It was fortunate that the Resistance had made all the logical arguments for her because B'Elanna had already decided that she was going to be the one to go.

She looked down at the sleeping woman nestled into her side. A fierce surge of protectiveness blossomed in B'Elanna's chest an she tightened her arm around the captain's shoulders. She could easily understand why Tuvok had wanted to come. He was the security chief, after all, and protecting the captain was written into his job description. He'd also known the captain longer than anyone else, and B'Elanna wondered, if on some level, he wanted to protect her image as much as he wanted to protect her. Certainly, no lower level crewman should ever have to see their leader in such a vulnerable state if it could be prevented, but B'Elanna was a member of the senior staff and sadly, she knew prisons.

She'd been on more than one rescue mission during her time in the Maquis. She'd told Tuvok (and herself) that she knew what to expect. But besides wanting to help Janeway, B'Elanna had also been motivated by the concern she'd seen in Chakotay's eyes. He'd wanted to go himself, but he had an entire ship to look after. He hadn't said it outright, but B'Elanna knew he was counting on her to bring the captain back.

If Janeway's mental state was anything to go on, she was just in time, too. Or, at least, B'Elanna hoped it would be just in time. She had no control over the next part of the plan, and no way to gauge when it would happen either. She simply had to trust that the ship and crew would do their part.

Trust didn't come easy for her. It never had, and yet here she was, getting thrown in prison, _voluntarily_, to help rescue a woman that a year and a half ago she would've called her enemy. Her mother had always said 'Klingons don't let friends face danger alone', and although B'Elanna wouldn't exactly refer to the captain as her friend, she had proven herself to be a capable warrior. In her mother's book, that would be honorable enough to trust.

Of course, her mother had also said that 'fools die young', anytime B'Elanna had done something reckless; volunteering for this mission could definitely be considered reckless.

Janeway started muttering in her sleep. B'Elanna heard a few names that she recognized, including her own, as well as some numbers. Given that all the prisoners were addressed by numbers, she could only guess those too were someone's name. Augris had told B'Elanna her new designation, but she'd cared so little she hadn't bothered to remember it. She certainly wasn't planning on staying here long enough to use it.

"B'Elanna, run!"

She started at the sudden yell from her captain, looking down at wild, wide open eyes. Janeway's hand curled tightly into the front of B'Elanna's shirt, shaking her, pushing her away. "Get out of here!"

"Easy, Captain!" B'Elanna quickly tried to reassure her. "It's going to be okay. We're going to be fine."

Janeway shook her head frantically. "No, you've got to go. Leave me! Run."

"No, Captain," she said firmly, wrapping her hands around Janeway's. "When I leave, you're going with me."

As if the outburst had spent all her energy, Janeway crumbled back into B'Elanna's side, still shaking her head. "No, no…you should…" She shivered convulsively.

"I know," B'Elanna said, wrapping herself around Janeway again. "Let's just get you warmed up."

Her eyelids were already starting to close again as B'Elanna enveloped her. "Can't get…so thirsty."

"That I can help with," B'Elanna told her. She'd seen the half finished water cube lying beside where Janeway had been sitting, and she twisted around to retrieve it. "Here, Captain, take a few sips."

She held it down, but Janeway was already asleep against her chest. "Well, it'll be here when you wake up." Holding the cube made B'Elanna realize how thirsty she herself was. "Most of it will be here anyway."

Keeping one arm wrapped around Janeway's shoulders, she tilted the corner of the cube up to her mouth so she could carefully take a few sips of the precious commodity. As soon as it hit her tongue, she almost gagged, yanking the cube back so she could stare at it. The water was sickly sweet and against all her training, she spit out the single mouthful she'd taken in.

During her Mokra education lesson, she'd taken in more than a mouthful of Alsaurian water. It had tasted like water, a bit old, like it had sat for too long or been run through rusty pipes, but still just water. The brief taste of the cube water was making her tongue tingle. She spat again for good measure.

Shifting Janeway's weight so that she was still supported, B'Elanna poured a few drops of the water into her hand and rubbed her finger in it. It felt oily to the touch as she spread it around. The edges where she thinned it evaporated quickly and she rubbed the rest off on her pants leg, before it could soak into her skin anymore.

Janeway muttered, her hands twitching in her sleep. B'Elanna looked at the cube. "Oh, Captain, they've been drugging you."


	13. Chapter 12

**Ch. 12**

Both women were awake when they heard people enter the outer corridor. B'Elanna had been encouraged when Janeway had seemed a bit more coherent when she'd woken and downright angry when B'Elanna had explained her drugging theory. On the downside, Janeway was clearly still being affected by the substance, drifting off in mid-sentence and unaware moments later that she'd been speaking.

When they heard the footsteps heading towards them, B'Elanna tried again to offer reassurance. "Remember, Captain, whatever happens, we're going to be all right. We're going to get through this sooner than you think."

On a regular day, Janeway would have likely picked up on what specifically B'Elanna wasn't saying, the message she was desperately trying to convey without tipping off any eavesdropping captors. This was anything but a regular day.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Lieutenant."

"I can handle it, Captain. Redundant organs and all that. _Please_ don't worry about me." She glanced hurriedly at the door where shadows were moving. "We're going to be fine."

The door opened and Augris stood waiting. "Ladies, it's time." He eyed Janeway in particular. "Unless, Five-one, you have something you'd like to report? Names of subversives that you'd like to tell me about? If so, that sort of thing takes time, and we'd have to cancel today's education lesson for your friend here."

"We don't know any subversives," B'Elanna growled.

Augris ignored her, his attention focused solely on Janeway. "Well, Five-one? Have you learned _anything_ yet?"

After a brief hesitation, Janeway shook her head. The answer was hardly confident and everyone seemed to know it.

"Very well," Augris replied, "maybe today will be the day you'll finally comprehend just how dangerous it can be to protect the Resistance." He snapped his fingers. "Bring both of them. This shouldn't take long."

The captain walked out of the cell under her own power, and B'Elanna only put up a token struggle. She could walk fine on her own and didn't need the guards holding onto her. Two guards flanked each of the prisoners and Augris brought up the rear of the party, stopping at another cell, presumably to taunt some other hapless prisoner. B'Elanna steeled herself for what was about to happen while praying to Kahless and whatever other gods were listening that Chakotay was close by. If her sense of time wasn't completely screwed up, and if everything was going according to plan, Voyager had to be getting close.

B'Elanna had been unconscious when they'd brought her from the interrogation room back to the cell and had no memory of the corridors. They seemed to be solid stone and longer with more corners and cells than she could have imagined. When they rounded a corner and Janeway lashed out at the guard to her right, running into him, slamming him up against the wall, B'Elanna was as surprised as any of them. For a split second, she watched in stunned amazement, as her captain pivoted just in time to miss being hit with the stun baton from the guard to her left, dodging out of the way with enough speed that the guard was unable to stop himself before he discharged the current into his partner.

It wasn't at all how B'Elanna had planned for this to work out, but she was more than happy to take advantage, taking out the knee of the guard to her left and slamming an elbow towards her other guard's throat. The guards' helmets protected their faces but the rest of their uniform offered little protection against strikes. A quick kick to the chest of the one whose knee she had dislocated encouraged him to stay down.

She looked up to see how Janeway was faring when a paralyzing arc of current hit her in the back, sending B'Elanna to her knees.

"That's enough!" Augris' voice growled in the tight corridor as he pulled B'Elanna back by the hair, keeping her upright and immobilized.

Janeway froze, too. She'd gotten hold of one of the stun batons and was holding it against the temple of one of her guards, his helmet discarded on the floor. "Let her go," she demanded.

Augris chuckled and B'Elanna could feel the end of his disruptor move against the back of her skull. "Impressive, but let's not kid ourselves. I'll kill her."

"What do you think I'll do then?" Janeway flicked a switch on the baton, its hum of power easily heard in the tight corridor. "Current applied directly to the cranium kills a man, Augris. You taught me that." She smirked. "Guess I learned something after all."

B'Elanna held her breath. For a stand-off, it was a pretty even trade. They likely wouldn't make it out of the prison, but if they could at least get away from Augris the two of them might be able to make a stand somewhere until –

B'Elanna's mouth went dry at the distinct click of a selector switch on the disruptor being moved. Augris pointed the weapon at the guard in Janeway's grasp and shot him, killing him instantly. Off balance, Janeway almost fell with the body. By the time she straightened, Augris had the weapon aimed again at B'Elanna's head.

"You should have picked a better hostage," Augris said, nuzzling the weapon against B'Elanna's temple. "Drop the baton, Janeway. You've already lost."

At the sound of her name, the captain's mouth quirked upwards in one corner, but before she could speak, blue light enveloped all of them, freezing them in the moment, and rematerializing them on Voyager's transporter platform.

Augris, the three living guards, B'Elanna and Janeway were met with an equal sized Voyager contingent. Tuvok held position with an entire security team consisting of Ayala, Andrews, and Fitzpatrick, while Kes stood waiting in the wings with her med-kit, and Lieutenant Carey worked the transporter controls.

"Drop your weapons," Tuvok ordered calmly, his voice the first to break the silence. Then another voice sounded over the comm. system.

"Lieutenant, report. Do you have them?"

"Aye, Commander, we've got them," Carey answered, "but we also caught a few Mokra in the net as well."

"We're going to make one more pass over the planet," Chakotay responded. "Be ready to throw them back when I give the order."

"Aye sir."

No one on the transporter platform moved. B'Elanna stayed on her knees as frozen as a statue. She felt the disruptor, trembling in Augris' grasp, still pointed at her head. He was furious and just as likely to shoot her out of spite as he was to comply with Tuvok's order.

Ayala caught her eye, raised his eyebrow in question, and then darted his eyes to the side. She blinked twice to let him know she understood. On the silent count of three, B'Elanna fell to her side, leaving Augris unexpectedly exposed. Ayala fired, knocking the weapon from his hand as Tuvok fired at one of the guards that had reached for his weapon. The flurry of phaser fire ended as quickly as it started.

After a further strained moment of silence, Carey cleared his throat. "The captain and lieutenant should clear the pad."

B'Elanna rolled easily from her position on the floor, sliding down the steps, met by Kes, who helped her to her feet. Augris and Janeway continued to glare at each other. She still held the baton in her hand.

"Captain Janeway," Tuvok spoke up, his attention never wavering from Augris, "please clear the transporter pad."

She looked down at the baton in her hand, took an unsteady step towards Tuvok. "Guess I didn't lose after all."

"You're still responsible for Three-twelve's death," Augris spat as she moved past him, "and I still have the boy."

Janeway stopped, her back to Augris. Carey slid the phaser from its holster under the console and aimed it at the Mokra officer, his left hand still on the transporter controls. Andrews shifted slightly to the right to have a better shot.

"I tortured you," Augris sneered at Janeway's back. "I tortured _her_."

Kes' grip on B'Elanna's arm tightened, holding her back, as Augris jutted his chin in their direction.

"And I'll torture the boy. He'll give me all the names I could ever want." The magistrate sniffed derisively. "Even if you don't know it yet, I stand by my statement, _Five-one_. You've already los-"

Janeway's hand hurt. It was one of many pains she was starting to feel as the adrenaline from the earlier fight wore off, but her hand was a shiny new ache. She looked down at it to see the tight, white knuckled grip she still held on the Mokra baton. She switched the baton to her left hand so she could shake out the stinging sensation that was shooting through all of her fingers up to her elbow.

"Captain?"

Tuvok's calm voice came from behind her. She wasn't sure when she had turned her back to him, but apparently she had as she was now facing the back of the transporter pad. The three Mokra guards lay stunned around her, none moving, except Augris, who was kneeling and clutching at his profusely bleeding face. The exposed bone over his nose had been shattered into two pieces. Janeway looked down at the baton in her hand and saw gleaming, wet blood on its highly polished surface. He cursed at her, spitting blood out on the pristine transporter pad, and she knew why her hand hurt. She tossed the baton down, no longer needing it.

"Lieutenant Carey," Chakotay's disembodied voice broke over the gathering silence, "prepare to transport the Mokra."

She managed to put a little bit of authority into her voice as Tuvok assisted her off the transporter pad. "Get this trash off my ship, Mister Carey, preferably to some place very public."

"Aye, Captain, transporting to the center of the market," he said, grinning, and in a shimmer of blue light, the Mokra disappeared from the platform.

The three security crewmen were finally able to relax their postures and holster their phasers. Janeway noticed all three men grinned at her as they passed by on their way out. She wanted to thank them, but the fatigue of her captivity was quickly returning, sapping her muscles of what little strength adrenaline had provided. Tuvok's firm presence at her back was the only thing truly keeping her upright. Kes and B'Elanna approached. Noticing the death grip Janeway was keeping on Tuvok's forearm, B'Elanna suggested they report to sickbay.

Janeway liked to think she had managed to nod, but the edges of black had finally taken over the entirety of her vision. She felt herself begin to slide, her body collapsing as her mind finally gave in. The last thing she heard was Three-twelve's humming gently soothing her into the dark.


	14. Chapter 13

**Ch. 13**

It was the humming that woke her.

Except that it wasn't a tune she recognized, and she knew Three-twelve's entire repertoire by heart. She opened her eyes to see the smoothly contoured bulkheads of Voyager's sickbay and the EMH standing at the surgical console. He looked up from it, and the humming stopped.

"Welcome back, Captain."

She frowned at the sudden silence. "Doc-" She had to swallow several times to moisten her throat before she could continue. "Doctor, were you…humming?"

"Yes," he answered, approaching the bedside. "It's been suggested I should try and expand my programming. Music seemed to be an acceptable first option. Did you find the melody pleasing?"

She didn't know how to answer that and concentrated instead on moving to a sitting position on the biobed. Several muscles in her back and shoulders twinged at the movement but not horribly so. "What's our status?"

"Our status? I have no idea," he said, picking up a tricorder and scanning her with its wand. "It's a rare day when someone sees fit to inform me of the ship's status. Which is rather ironic, considering I am the one most directly connected to the ship and the most affected by its maintenance."

She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. It was so surreal. "Doctor, this really isn't-"

"_Your_ status, however, I can expound on. You've been through quite the ordeal, Captain," he said, switching gears abruptly. "You presented with contusions, abrasions, bruised organs, pulmonary edema, dehydration, malnutrition, electrolyte imbalance, and a very crude prison designation. It took a few hours of reconstructive surgery to remove the mark, but I can assure you that the Mokra's claims of permanence were highly overrated."

A few hours? Her shoulder twitched and she imagined she could feel the patch of new skin. She felt beads of sweat break out on the back of her neck. They rolled down her bare back, stinging wounds that already burned. Her fingernails dug into the palm of her hand as she felt the coarse cloth swipe lazily across her back, blotting her skin dry. The ice cold probe began searing another number-

"Captain?"

She sucked in a breath of cool, dry recycled air and saw the Doctor frowning at her. She blinked, trying to remember what he'd just told her. He'd removed the mark the etcher had branded her with. There had been pride in his voice at the accomplishment. He'd probably paused, waiting for her to praise him. "Thank you, Doctor," she managed. "It was definitely not a souvenir I wanted to keep."

"I should think not," he said and walked the tricorder back to the medical console, uploading its scans. "There were also a few chemicals in your system that the Federation medical database didn't even recognize. You'll be pleased to know that after extensive research on my part, I managed to neutralize all Alsaurian chemicals in your system."

Torres had said they were drugging her. At least, she thought that was what she remembered. "How is B'Elanna?"

"If she's following orders, she's recovering in her quarters. If not, I suspect she's back to work in engineering." He paused. "Shall I ask the computer for her location?"

She hoped he meant that question as merely rhetorical. "Were there drugs in her system?"

"Not to the same degree." He picked up a Petri dish with what looked like a small barbed metallic ball and presented it to her. "I removed one of these from each of you. It was attached between your third and fourth ribs and was releasing a toxin that had it gone undetected would have likely killed you." He eyed it with disgust. "You both had the same amount of its toxin in your systems. Lieutenant Torres claimed it was a tracker. It likely activated when you were transported out of the prison. An effective deterrent to escape, as you would have been incapacitated within an hour."

She'd unconsciously moved her arm to its protective position over the spot where she'd been injected. That's why Augris had been so sure he'd win. He'd known, anticipated her leaving and thought he'd accounted for it. Bastard.

"As for the other chemicals in your system," the EMH continued, "it seems the lieutenant was smart enough to stay away from contaminated water supplies."

"She said she could taste it, that it was sweet." Janeway shook her head. "I never noticed."

"Considering the amount you had in your system, it's likely it built up over time. They could have started you off at a very low, undetectable level. By the time there was enough that could be tasted, you were already under its influence." He paused. "Were you aware of any differences in your perception?"

She nodded reluctantly. "I, uh, saw and heard things...I even smelled things that I know weren't really there."

"I'm not surprised," he said bluntly. "The mixture of chemicals in your body included hallucinogens, psychoactives, and sedatives. It's clear they were trying to manipulate you."

"You have no idea, Doctor," she muttered, sliding off the biobed and onto her feet. They tingled as she shifted her weight to them, but overall she felt better than she had in days. Tired, which seemed to be a permanent state for her since arriving in the Delta Quadrant, but at least her mind was clear again.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She kept one hand on the biobed to steady herself. "You've done a wonderful job, Doctor. I feel one hundred percent better."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Captain," he retorted, stepping in front of her. "I've barely completed your initial care. You are in no shape to be running back to the bridge to try and get yourself blown up again."

"Doctor," she tried wearily, "all I want to do is take a hot shower, eat some real food, and sleep in my own bed." She straightened, squared her shoulders, hoping he'd appreciate the effort. "I have no intention of getting myself blown up today."

The hologram scoffed indignantly. "In light of recent events, I suppose you moved that item of business to tomorrow's schedule."

And it was official, she'd placated him enough for one day. "Doctor-"

"Captain!" Kes appeared from around the corner of the medical office. "It's good to see you awake, but I didn't think you'd be up on your feet already."

"She shouldn't be," the Doctor said. "We were just discussing how I haven't released her yet and as chief medical officer I do have the authority to override her decisions."

Janeway glared at him. "And I was just reminding the Doctor that I'm also an excellent engineer that knows how to delete unnecessary holographic programs."

Standing beside both of them, it was incredibly easy for Kes to assess the situation. "It's been a long month for all of us."

"A month," Janeway repeated quietly, her focus finally shifting to the young woman. "Was that all?"

Kes heard the disbelief in the captain's voice. "Yes, the Doctor's been activated almost that entire time researching Alsaurian biology in an effort to help devise a way to locate you." She smiled up at the hologram. "I believe Lieutenant Carey used the Doctor's results to refine his targeting for the transporter net they used to beam you and B'Elanna out of there."

The Doctor was practically glowing with pride at Kes' words, but she wasn't finished.

"And Doctor, given how beneficial the proper rest is to the human body's healing cycle, I'm sure you won't object to the captain sleeping in her own bed tonight as long as she returns tomorrow to complete her treatment," Kes finished before the EMH could gloat too much.

"Well…yes, I suppose that would be acceptable," he allowed, inputting commands on a PADD, "as long as she follows my prescribed regimen for nutritional intake. She cannot simply go back to her quarters, inhale a pot of coffee, and report to the bridge. She needs rest."

"_She_ can hear you," Janeway growled.

Kes deftly took the PADD from his hands. "I'll be sure to go over it with her." She gestured to the doors leading out to the corridor. "Whenever you're ready, Captain."

"She needs to drink plenty of fluids," the Doctor said to their departing backs. "No coffee!"

* * *

Janeway yawned herself awake and rolled over onto one of her boots. She grimaced and pulled it out from under her back, tossing it away somewhere down by her feet. She lay quietly for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling of her quarters before pushing off the blanket and pulling herself up to her feet. She gathered up the blanket and pillow from her makeshift pallet on the floor and threw them in a pile onto her bed.

One of the best things about having quarters to herself was that no one was questioning her sanity for sleeping on the floor when she had a perfectly good bed available. The first night when Kes had helped her escape from sickbay, she'd sunk into the mattress and slept like the dead. The next time she'd laid down to rest, she hadn't been quite as inhumanly tired and had fared worse.

It wasn't so much that the bed was uncomfortable after having slept on a rock slab for a month, it had just been hot, unbearably so, and she'd woken up sweating. Throwing off the covers hadn't helped. Lowering the temperature of the room had eventually cooled her off, but she'd still been unable to sleep. The couch hadn't been any better, and when she'd rolled off the chaise she'd been too frustrated to immediately pull herself up. Lying there, weighing her options, she'd drifted back off to sleep, waking again only long enough to pull her blanket and pillow down to the floor with her.

Two days and multiple naps later, she was still sleeping with her new arrangement and saw no reason to move back to the bed. She was resting, her energy was starting to return, and the Doctor was supposed to clear her for duty after today. What did it matter that she currently preferred the floor over her bed? Just because it was uncomfortable and she was really only able to sleep for a short while before waking and having to change positions meant nothing; she'd never been a sound sleeper anyway.

Crossing to the replicator, her order for coffee was on the tip of her tongue when she managed to remember that the Doctor was still keeping her diet restricted. She hit the wall above the replicator. "Computer, what does the Doctor's nutrition regimen for Kathryn Janeway prescribe for breakfast today?"

"A single serving of plain yogurt with nuts and/or berries."

Her stomach lurched. She hated yogurt. "Are there any other options provided?"

"Negative."

"As soon as he puts me back on duty, I swear," she muttered, drumming her fingers against the bulkhead as the replicator produced the accepted breakfast. The chime for her door sounded and, expecting Kes, she called, "Enter."

"Good morning, Captain," Chakotay greeted her, "here's the report you were asking…"

She heard him trail off and realized it was probably the first time he'd seen her in her pajamas. She hastily put the yogurt down on her desk and retreated into her bedroom. "Sorry, Commander, just give me a second."

"I can come back."

"No, no." She came back out, tying a robe into place. "Your presence gives me a reason to ignore my prescribed breakfast."

He eyed the yogurt. "Still no coffee?"

"No," she growled, "and he's got both of my replicators locked out."

Chakotay frowned. "You have two replicators?"

"The one in the ready room."

"Oh." He frowned again. "I thought he made deck one off limits." His sentence trailed off at the look she gave him. "I'm guessing I probably shouldn't ask."

"No. You shouldn't," she said, "and he's got Kes on his side. Kes! She's more tenacious than I ever gave her credit for. She won't even let Neelix serve me his better-than-coffee substitute."

"You're that desperate?"

"I'm getting there," she admitted. She picked the yogurt back up and frowned at it. Sighing, she took a small bite and pulled a face. "I can't eat this."

He chuckled. "Shall I order you some coffee? I'll use my replicator code."

Her eyes momentarily lit up at the idea, but then she slumped again. "No, he'll scan me and see the caffeine in my system. I don't want him to have any reason not to clear me for duty tomorrow."

"He's letting you get back to work already then?"

"Half shifts anyway." She recycled the uneaten yogurt. "I hope you didn't get too settled in my ready room."

"The ready room you can have, but I will miss your seat on the bridge," he said, grinning. "It's got a better cushion than mine."

"I'm sure we can get you a pillow or something." She happened to know for a fact that he'd refused to sit in her chair the entire time she'd been gone. A little detail Tom had mentioned during one of her visits to sickbay. "You brought a report for me to read?"

He looked down at the PADD in his hand, having almost forgotten his excuse for stopping by. "Oh. Right." He stepped further into the room, handing it over. "It includes the details on the rescue plan and the transporter net that Carey came up with."

"They used Neelix's ship when they came back to the planet," she said, skimming the report. "I'd wondered – what are you grinning at?"

"Nothing," he said immediately, although she'd clearly caught him. He hadn't really been able to tell when he'd first come inside her quarters, but when he'd gotten closer he could easily see her bed head. She'd clearly not been up long and her still short hair was definitely mussed and even bumped up on the right side. He tried to swallow his amusement. "So, are you going to keep your hair short then?"

Her hand immediately went to her head. "It's sticking up, isn't it?"

He shook his head then conceded, "Maybe a little."

Before she could try to smooth it down, the door chimed again. Giving up, she called, "Enter."

This time it was Kes that appeared in the door. She smiled in greeting. "Good morning, Captain. Commander."

Sighing, Janeway greeted her back. "Come in, Kes, and give me a minute to get changed. If that's all, Commander, my warden has arrived to take me to sickbay."

He nodded, still grinning and bid them both good-bye. He hadn't found the opening he was looking for to ask how she was really doing with her recovery. Based on what he could hear through their shared wall, she wasn't sleeping as well as she pretended. He could hear her moving around at all hours of the night, but maybe a return to work was what she needed. He'd keep an eye on her, just like he knew most of the senior staff was doing.


	15. Chapter 14

**Ch. 14**

She sat with her back against the arm of her couch, a book propped open across her knees. She wasn't really reading; she wasn't really doing much of anything except twisting the ends of her once again long hair over and around her fingers. The Doctor had cleared her for light duty and she was due on the bridge in about six hours, but she couldn't sleep. She wasn't worried about it. Starting tomorrow morning, she could have coffee again, and she was sure the reintroduction of caffeine to her diet after all this time would be sufficient to get her through the day. Or the half day, as it was supposed to be. She had a gnawing suspicion that Kes would be showing up as a gentle reminder of when she was supposed to hand the bridge back over to her first officer. The universe help her if B'Elanna's plan of installing holoprojectors on the bridge ever became realized. During a real emergency, the Doctor's ability to be present on the bridge would be an asset that she'd have a hard time denying, but the majority of the time… Would she really want him lecturing her about how long she'd been on the bridge on a regular basis?

The chime for her door sounded, surprising her, and out of reflex she called for entry. At the sight of her first officer, she straightened, releasing the lock of hair she'd been twisting. "Commander, is everything all right?"

He stepped hesitantly through her doors, allowing them to close behind him. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

She turned fully, putting her feet on the floor. "Everything's fine as far as I know," she said, still a bit confused at his appearance at such a late hour. "Did something happen to make you think it wasn't?"

"Not with the ship, no," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he moved closer, "but-" he stopped abruptly, noticing her hair. "You grew it back out."

"Oh. Well, yes, I had the Doctor…" Self-consciously, she moved it back over her shoulder and more out of sight. "That's not why you came to see me, is it?"

"No. No, uh," he assured her, dropping his hands onto the back of her living room chair, keeping it between them. "I just…I wanted to check and see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," she said, insuring the right amount of lightness in her tone.

He nodded. "Well, it's really kind of late, but the computer said you were awake-"

"You asked the computer if I was awake?"

"Just confirming, really," he said, gesturing in the direction of his quarters and their shared wall. "I could hear you moving around earlier, thought you might still be up."

She could feel the heat rise in her face and made a mental note to ask B'Elanna about adding further sound proofing to the bulkheads. "I apologize if I woke you up, Commander. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No, no that's not what I-" he waved her off. "We've shared a wall for a year now. You've never disturbed me. I just…if there's anything you want to talk about, I wanted to let you know I'm here. Awake. If you felt like talking to someone."

"You mean about what happened down on the planet?" She shrugged, straightening her robe unnecessarily. "I've already filed my reports on it, and the Doctor cleared me for duty."

"I know; I read the reports, and I'm glad you're physically okay, but I also know that you're the captain. If something was bothering you about what happened down on the planet with the Mokra, there aren't many people you could talk to about it. Or _want_ to talk to about it, but you can talk to me, if you'd like." He shrugged. "I've been in a few scrapes myself. I know it's not always easy to just sleep it off."

"Sleep it off?" She gave him a faint smile. "Because I'm awake at two in the morning, you think I might be having trouble sleeping?"

"You were gone for a month, Captain," he reminded her, remaining earnest. "By your own report, you endured some horrible things down there. I'd be more surprised if you weren't having trouble sleeping."

She looked down at her hands. "The things I endured…I'll get over." She shrugged, giving him a weak smile. "Augris actually did me something of a favor by drugging me. It's blurred some of the memories, and they just don't seem as sharp as they might have been otherwise."

"Some, but not all," he said quietly.

"No, not all," she admitted.

He waited to see if she'd say anything more and when a long moment had passed, he bobbed his head in a quick nod. "Well, I'll see you on the bridge in the morning then."

He was almost to the door when she spoke.

"It's past midnight."

A little confused, he turned back to her. "Yes, it is."

"I'm going to have a coffee," she said, slapping her hands against her knees as she stood. "Would you care for anything?"

"Tea," he said, "blend seventeen."

She waved for him to have a seat while she replicated the drinks and then joined him. He blew carefully on the hot tea, trying to watch her over the rim of his mug. It had been a year now, and it still never failed to amuse him how reverent she was with her first sip of coffee. It was almost ritualistic the way she carefully wrapped both hands around the mug, closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath of coffee fumes before ever setting her lips to mug and taking that first mouthful of molten reassurance.

And some days it was reassurance. He'd figured that out early on. Some days she really needed the caffeine fix, other times she drank it because it gave her something to do with her hands, but it was also her connection to the Alpha Quadrant. To Earth. A reassurance that home still waited for them. Considering she'd spent a month in alien captivity, this particular cup of coffee was rather a big deal for her.

After a few sips in silence on both their parts, she broke the ice. "I assume you read B'Elanna's report."

He nodded. He'd also tried talking to her about it, but she'd stuck to her written version of events, insisting she hadn't left out anything important. She'd also told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he wanted to know more he should ask the captain.

"She was kind in her details regarding the condition in which she found me," Janeway said slowly, holding the coffee in front of her like a shield. "I wish she hadn't seen me like that at all."

"She's seen worse, and she knew the score going in. She _wanted_ to help you, Captain." He leaned forward, setting his tea down on the coffee table. "It may have been Tuvok's idea for them to be recaptured in the hopes they'd be moved closer to your location, but B'Elanna was adamant she'd be the one to go." He watched her toy with her coffee mug. "You trust her, don't you?"

She looked up, sharply. "You know that I do."

"Then you aren't worried about her seeing you like you were down in that prison," he said. "What's really bothering you?"

He expected her to deny that anything was wrong. He expected her to defiantly hold his eye and claim ignorance. What he didn't expect was to see the shadow of guilt that crept across her face before she dropped her gaze, her eyes beginning an unseeing study of minute imperfections of her coffee mug.

"Captain?" He knew she heard him. Her quarters were overbearingly quiet this evening, affording no space to hide, and he saw her slight flinch when he said the title. He sat back in his chair, considering whether he should wait her out or try a different tactic. "You want to tell me about Three-twelve?"

For a split second, her expression was completely unguarded. It was open, honest, her pain of the last month bared to the universe, and in the next second, fury roiled in her eyes. It was an anger not necessarily directed at him, for which he was thankful, but its lack of outward direction did not make it any less unsettling.

"What do you know about him?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper.

"He was mentioned in your report."

She seemed to relax a fraction of her guard.

"And you called to him several times while you were in sickbay."

If he hadn't been watching so closely for her reaction, he would have missed it in the dim lighting of her quarters, but he saw the way she paled at the implication. He saw the tight swallow and purse of her lips before she got to her feet, pacing to the shadowy corner where she could move fractionally closer to the stars outside. He didn't turn to watch her, giving her the moment she seemed to clearly need.

"You stayed with me in sickbay?" she asked finally.

"I was worried about you." Chakotay frowned, surprised she had chosen that detail to question. "It took awhile, but eventually the Doctor got you stabilized." He leaned forward and gathered up the two empty mugs from the coffee table, taking them to be recycled as his excuse to face her again. "Once I saw you were sleeping calmly, I felt safe enough to leave."

"I had no idea," she said quietly.

He watched the reflection of her face in the viewport. She looked sad, her arms held tightly, protectively over her middle, keeping her back to him.

"Next time I'll stay until you wake up," he promised.

She turned to face him, her head cocked to one side. "_Next_ time?"

His mouth went dry at the implication. He'd meant the words to be comforting, but the realization sank slowly in that he hadn't misspoken. Sadly, he believed there would be a next time. Swallowing, he said, "There's a lot of universe between us and home."

"Chakotay, I can't even sleep in my bed as it is and you're already planning for next time!" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. That was not something she'd intended to share with anyone. She dragged her hand over her face, rubbing at the sleep in her eyes that wouldn't come.

Settling his hip against her desk, he risked a glance towards her bedroom and noticed a pile of sheets and blankets on the floor. "I'm not planning on anything," he said, slowly, "but considering everything we've already faced out here in a single year…"

She heard him trail off and found that she had to agree with him. The Kazon, Caretakers, Viidians, that little bastard that had caused them all to hallucinate for his own sick amusement, and sixty plus more years of other Delta Quadrant dangers in front of them. She looked out towards the stars again and shook her head. "And it's all we can do to just stay alive. Evade and escape."

"Survive and resist."

She grimaced at his reply. "You took Nimembeh's class, too?"

He nodded.

Before she could stop herself, she yawned. Covering her mouth and apologizing, she said, "I guess I am a little tired. Not sleeping well as you know."

He knew she said it to lighten the mood, but he was worried about what was keeping her up. "Nightmares?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "But they'll fade, given time."

"You sound rather sure of that."

She gave him a tired smile. "Sadly, I've been in this position before. Taken prisoner, rescued, recovery."

The admission surprised him. "I didn't know."

"No reason you would."

"Perhaps one day you'll tell me about it."

"One day, perhaps."

Hearing the tired dismissal for what it was, he stood. "But not tonight." He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "I'll see you on the bridge."

She nodded. "Good night, Commander, and…thank you."

He gave her a last brief nod and exited into the bright corridor. Going into her bedroom, she sighed, and sank back down into her nest of blankets to try and get another hour or two of sleep before her shift started.


	16. Chapter 15

**Ch. 15**

She heard the turbolift doors open behind her and dropped her head to the back of her command chair. She knew who had just arrived on the bridge, and she knew why. She gave a disgruntled sigh and briefly wondered if it would do any good at all to try fighting with the pixie. Opening her eyes, she gave a half powered glare to the young woman standing in front of her.

Kes smiled warmly at her. "It's that time, Captain."

"This is getting ridiculous," Janeway grumbled. "It's been almost a week of this already. I feel fine."

"It's been three days, and tomorrow is your last day on half shifts," Kes reminded her. "Which you already successfully argued the Doctor down to from seven days."

Everyone on the bridge crew around them were studiously working at their consoles, pretending to not hear a word of what was being exchanged in front of them. The same way they had the past two days when Kes had arrived to collect the captain from her half shifts. The same way they would tomorrow.

"I've arranged for an hour on the holodeck," Kes said. "You said you'd teach me how to play hoverball."

Janeway looked to her mutinous first officer. "And how is that any more physically relaxing than me sitting here, I ask you?"

Chakotay grinned. "Exercise is good for everyone. It might even help you sleep."

She narrowed her eyes at him, the comment a double sided barb since they both knew she still wasn't sleeping well. "Maybe I should institute an exercise regimen for everyone on the ship."

"What makes you think everyone else isn't already exercising?" he asked playfully.

"Tuvok?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Is there already a ship wide exercise regimen in place for all crewmembers?"

He hesitated long enough for Janeway to turn in her chair and look up at him. "There is, Captain. Most of the crew completes a minimum of three hours per week of physical activity, duties permitting."

"_Most_ of the crew?"

Even for a Vulcan, he looked uncomfortable. "The members of the senior staff have an irregular attendance record."

Janeway stared at him then looked to Kes and finally at Chakotay. "Have I ever attended?" she half whispered.

"Not formally," Chakotay whispered back, "but any time spent playing hoverball does count."

Kes coughed politely, drawing her captain's attention.

"Fine." Janeway got to her feet. "Commander, the bridge is yours."

"Aye, Captain."

As she and Kes reached the turbolift doors, an alarm went off from Harry's console. "Captain," he looked up unsure, "or Commander, we're receiving an automated distress call. It's from an Alsaurian ship."

She stopped at Harry's words, glanced at Kes, and stepped back towards the bridge, resting her hands on the railing above her chair. "On screen."

"Audio only."

"Let's hear it," Janeway said, moving back down to the command deck.

"To any…in range…the Alsaurian transport ship Gri…immediate assist…losing life…imminent…"

Janeway looked back to Harry. "What's their position?"

"They're three light years behind us, Captain," he reported.

Chakotay got to his feet, moving close to her side so no one else would overhear him. "Three light years closer to the planet we're trying to put some distance to."

Tom turned in his chair. "Aren't all the Alsaurian ships controlled by the Mokra?"

"All Alsaurian ships must be registered with the Mokra and are subject to random inspections," Tuvok explained. "It does not mean that every ship is manned by Mokra officers or has Mokra on board."

"We can't just leave them out there with failing life support," Janeway said, rubbing her chin with one hand. "Mister Paris, set an intercept course, maximum warp."

Tom looked dubious, but answered, "Aye, Captain."

"Harry, try to respond, let them know help is on the way. Then alert B'Elanna, tell her to have a repair crew standing by."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tuvok, I want continual scans. If you pick up so much as a hint that another Alsaurian ship is able to assist, I want to know immediately. If they can handle this with their own people, I'd rather see them do it, but the last thing I want is to be surprised by more than one ship in that area."

Tuvok nodded, his fingers flying over his console.

"Kes, you can inform the Doctor that I have put myself back on full duty whether he likes it or not. If he wants to put a reprimand in my file, so be it," she said crisply. "When he's finished posturing about that, tell him that he may be receiving Alsaurian casualties."

Kes bobbed her head without argument and turned back toward the turbolift.

Janeway stood on the bridge for another minute, hands on her hips, as they hurtled at full speed back the way they just came. "Tuvok, you have the bridge. Commander, you're with me."

She strode into her ready room, heading straight for the replicator. "Coffee, black." She barely glanced at him over her shoulder. "Would you care for anything?"

"No, thank you." He watched as she cradled a hot mug and then moved to stand with her back to him, staring out at the streaking stars.

After a long minute and more than a couple sips of her coffee, Janeway faced him, her eyes locking with his. "You don't think we should help them."

It was on the tip of his tongue to disagree. Helping a ship in distress was fundamentally the right thing to do; however, what she said was true. This time he didn't want to do the right thing. "I think it's dangerous to extend our hand to a people that have already shown a willingness to bite."

She studied the contents of her mug. "Give me a reason to turn around."

He barely heard her. He was sure he hadn't heard her correctly. "Excuse me?"

Pained crystal blue eyes met his. "Tell me we can't go. Tell me there's a problem with the deflector," she said, gesturing towards the bridge. "Tell me one of our nacelles is shearing off, or that our Bolian crewmen will die from some rare exposure if we go back. Give me a reason to turn this ship around, Chakotay, and I'll do it."

Closing the distance between them, he looked up at her. "I'm sorry, Captain. All the reasons I have to turn this ship around are strictly personal."

One hand held onto her mug but the other gripped the rail as she frowned. "That doesn't sound like you, Commander. What personal reason could you possibly have that would keep you from answering a cry for assistance?"

He put his hand over hers. "It's my job to protect you, Captain. We just got you back. If we could wait at least a month or so before putting you in harm's way again, I'd be okay with that."

She stiffened, her hand slipping from under his. "I'm fine, Commander."

"These people hurt you."

"Augris…hurt me," she said, stumbling slightly over his name, "not these people. The Alsaurian ship that's requesting assistance had nothing to do with my capture."

"I know," he said finally able to give her a reassuring grin, "and that's why you've given the order for us to help them."

* * *

"Approaching Alsaurian ship's location now," Harry reported.

"On screen."

"Looks like it's completely adrift," Chakotay commented, looking between his captain and the screen.

"They're venting atmo," Tom said, frowning.

"Life signs?" she asked.

Harry hesitated. "Three. All faint."

"Can you get a transporter lock on them?"

He hesitated again. "Yes, Captain."

Janeway looked over her shoulder at the security station. "Tuvok?"

He shook his head. "There are no discernible dangers at this time."

She got to her feet. "Drop shields. Transport those life signs directly to sickbay." She caught Tuvok's eye. "Maintain yellow alert. Send a security team to sickbay."

"Aye, Captain."

"B'Elanna, what have you got?" she asked, crossing the bridge to the engineer's console.

Torres shook her head. "I can't tell you what caused the problem until I get over there, Captain. Paris is right, though, they've got some sort of hull fracture and no shields. Even a functioning life support system wouldn't be able to compensate for the amount of oxygen they're losing."

"Can you repair it?"

"Their technology isn't as advanced as ours." She shrugged. "Assuming it's not catastrophic, I'm sure I can come up with something that will hold her together."

Janeway studied the scans, worrying her chin. "All right. B'Elanna, prepare an away team to accompany you over there, but stand by until I've spoken with our…guests." She dropped her hand to her hip. "They may not want help from a disreputable ship like ours."

B'Elanna's back stiffened. "You think this might be a Mokra ship?"

"It's possible."

"And we're _helping_ them?" Torres asked incredulously. "After what they did to you?"

Janeway held her eye. "What would you have me do, B'Elanna?"

The engineer's mouth opened and closed more than once before she was finally able to spit out a response. "Run. Put as much space between us and these-" she gestured angrily at the viewscreen. "_people_ as possible."

"We can't, but don't think the thought hasn't occurred to me." She squeezed B'Elanna's arm and gave her a small nod before turning back towards the center of the bridge. "Commander, you have the bridge. I'm going down to sickbay to check on our newest arrivals." As she passed the security station, she said, "Mister Tuvok, you're with me."

She'd hoped her old friend's presence at her side would help slow her hammering heart. His solid company in the short turbolift ride was reassuring. The reports indicated he had also endured a beating at the hands of the Mokra before being rescued, and the repulsive idea of his mistreatment, more than anything, put strength in her step as they arrived on deck five.

The doors to sickbay opened, revealing three unconscious Alsaurian patients laid out on the biobeds. The EMH tended over one in the surgical bay while Kes worked between the biobeds of the second and third patients, both of whom appeared to be female. The smell of scorched material, burnt hair, and a third metallic scent filled the air. Janeway hoped it wouldn't take the air scrubbers an overly long time to compensate for the new odors.

Ayala and Andrews stood near the beds where Kes was working, staying out of her way but near enough to be on hand if needed, and Janeway could just see Fitzpatrick stationed within the curve of the surgical bay. She was relieved to see that all three Alsaurians were wearing civilian clothing and not Mokra uniforms, but as she approached Kes' position she noticed the injuries of the two females were very different from each other.

Kes looked up. "They'll all survive, Captain." She nodded towards the surgical bay. "The male took the brunt of some sort of explosion. He suffered severe burns and blunt force trauma, a few broken bones." She continued running a dermal regenerator over the woman in front of her. "She had similar burns but not as severe. If he was piloting, she may have been sitting co-pilot."

"And this one?" Janeway asked, moving closer to the third patient who was clearly younger than the other female. The girl's appearance, aside from her injuries, was completely unremarkable and yet something about her seemed familiar. "These aren't plasma burns like any I've ever seen." Her eyes met Kes. "And the bruises on her face are more than a few hours old."

Kes nodded. "None of her injuries are consistent with an explosion, Captain. The burns appear to be concentrated, low-level phaser burns that likely occurred at least twenty-four hours ago."

Janeway dug her nails into the palm of her hand. "And the bruising?"

"Also older," Kes confirmed.

"There are hematomas present on the male's knuckles that predate his injuries caused by the explosion," the Doctor said, joining them. "The bruising pattern is similar in nature to Commander Chakotay's after he foolishly runs his boxing program without the proper safety levels engaged."

"And what's the male's condition," Janeway forced herself to ask, ignoring the jibe about Chakotay.

"He'll live," the hologram said simply. "I've repaired the more serious injuries. All that's left is dermal regeneration. Kes, you can begin on him immediately; I'll finish up here."

"No."

Kes, the Doctor, and Tuvok all looked to their captain. Immediately, the EMH became indignant. "No? Captain, he requires medical attention. I will not withhold it from him."

"I'm not suggesting you withhold it from him," Janeway replied coldly. "I am suggesting you treat _her_ wounds first."

"Captain," Tuvok began cautiously without bothering to ask which female the captain was referring to, "I believe you are assuming a situation among the three patients that we simply do not yet have the facts to support."

"Her injuries are less severe," the hologram tried. "Priority of care dictates-"

"I'm assuming she's been beaten and tortured, Tuvok," Janeway stated, speaking over the EMH. "Given her injuries, it's not a far leap, and if the Doctor's other patients are stable," she looked at the EMH and received his reluctant agreement, "I'd like to hear her side of the story first."

"Very well," the EMH said. "It will take at least an hour to perform all the necessary treatments. If there is somewhere else you would prefer to wait, I can contact you as soon as she is awake."

"It would be unwise for the ship to linger in this area of space, Captain," Tuvok reminded her unnecessarily.

"Would it negatively impact her condition to wake her?" Janeway asked.

The EMH considered the question as he ran another scan over the young girl's head. "She won't be comfortable."

Janeway crossed her arms over chest and leaned back against the unoccupied biobed. "Do it."


	17. Chapter 16

**Ch. 16**

The young girl's eyes opened slowly, but as soon as they focused on the Doctor looming over her, she sucked in a breath, flinching away from him and grimacing in pain.

"Please, try to remain calm," the Doctor said, placing a restraining hand on her arm. "You're safe here."

She looked at him as if he was crazy and then looked to her side, seeing Janeway and Tuvok. Confusion clouded her features, making her appear even younger. Her mouth opened but no sound came out, and then she looked to her other side. Kes smiled warmly at her, but the girl stared past Kes at the other woman lying on the biobed.

Janeway shifted a bit to the side, wanting to see the girl's initial reaction. The girl's metamorphosis from confusion to fear and finally loathing was remarkable. The hatred in her expression also made her recognizable.

"Sewrin." The name was out of Janeway's mouth before she could stop it.

She'd seen the girl's face for hours on end displayed on the large, blank wall of the interrogation room as she'd been forced to walk around and around. Endlessly. Never stopping. The stifling, humid heat of the room constantly bearing down on her, turning her muscles into wooden limbs she could barely control. But she couldn't rest. She had to keep moving. Had to ignore the sweat crawling its way down her back and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. It was imperative that she not fall, that she not quit-

"Captain?"

Tuvok's firm voice slammed her back into the safe confines of sickbay. He cocked his head slightly, and Janeway had to force her hands to release the death grip they'd taken on the side of the biobed. She felt a bead of sweat roll down her back, and she swiped a hand across her upper lip. She met the Doctor's eyes and he raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, the girl spoke up.

"How do you know my name? Who are you people?" Her voice was scratchy as she rasped out the questions. She batted the EMH's hand off her arm and pushed herself to a sitting position. "Where the hell am I? And what happened to her?"

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said, taking the crucial step forward and away from her support. "You're on the starship Voyager. We responded to your ship's distress call, and rescued the three of you."

"Three of us?" The girl whipped her head around, eyeing her surroundings. "Keldo is here, too? Where?"

"In the surgical bay," the Doctor said, indicating the semi-enclosed area. "I've treated his serious injuries, and he'll make a full recovery."

The girl's dark eyes locked on to the doctor. "You should have let him die."

Before the Doctor could splutter a response, she turned her attention back to Janeway. "And you," she jutted out her chin, "how do you know my name?"

"The Mokra have a file on you," she answered simply.

"Yeah. So?"

"They forced me to learn it."

Sewrin's lip curled into a snarl. "You're a collaborator."

"No." Janeway shook her head once. "I was their prisoner."

"Oh, yeah?" Sewrin leaned back on her hands, assessing Janeway up and down, disbelief clear in her features. "What's your number, prisoner?"

Janeway's mouth went dry at the question uttered in that same arrogant tone the guards had constantly used when addressing her. The girl's attitude was clearly meant to provoke, and for a brief moment it hit its mark, but this was not Janeway's first hostile negotiation. "Nine-eight-four-seven-three-three-five-one," she rattled off with an unnatural ease. "However, they usually just referred to me as Five-one."

She ignored the looks she was receiving from her officers and met Sewrin's assessing stare instead.

"I remember you now. You're that alien female that Augris was obsessing over. I saw you there as well." Sewrin glanced at Tuvok, apparently recognizing him from the planet. "So the cell got you out, did they?"

"My crew rescued me."

"With just a little help from the Resistance, right?"

"And yet you did not recognize her?" Tuvok asked.

"Wasn't my business," Sewrin replied, not bothering to look at him. "_She_ wasn't my mission."

"What was your mission?"

She smirked at the question, but didn't answer it.

"How did your ship become disabled?" Janeway asked.

"My ship, wreck that it was, got knocked out of the sky by Keldo and this bitch." She indicated the woman lying next to her. "As for what brought us to your attention, I couldn't really say. I couldn't see much from the storage hold they had me chained up in."

"You were their prisoner?"

"I'm their reward money," Sewrin clarified.

Janeway exchanged a look with Tuvok. "They're bounty hunters?"

"That's right and I-"

"Where am I? Who are you people?" a male voice said loudly from the surgical bay. "You pointing a weapon at me, boy? Do you know who I am?"

"Sit down, sir," Fitzpatrick said firmly as the Doctor hurried over to attend to his patient.

Tuvok motioned Andrews over to assist before drawing his own weapon and pointing it at the alien woman still unconscious on the biobed. "Kes, please step away from the area."

The young Ocampan looked alarmed and did as she was told, moving away until she was pushed behind Ayala's broad back who had positioned himself next to the captain.

"What is going-" Sewrin started to ask but quickly had her answer when the female bounty hunter sat upright as though she'd been awake for hours.

"You knew I was awake and listening," she said coolly to Tuvok. "How?"

Tuvok's aim didn't waver. "Why were you attempting to deceive us?"

"It's always smart to test the wind before stepping into it." She shared an equal look of loathing with Sewrin. "You never know what kind of trash is being blown about."

"Or what fetid cesspools it will uncover," Sewrin snapped back.

The bounty hunter bared her teeth at the younger woman before returning her attention to her gathered audience. "Captain Janeway, speaking as one ship commander to another, I'd recommend putting that one in restraints. She's dangerous."

"I'll keep it in mind," Janeway said mildly. "How did your ship become damaged?"

"It's an old ship. Faulty circuits I imagine." She looked over her shoulder towards the surgical bay. "May I see my husband, Captain?"

"Of course," Janeway agreed easily, "Mister Ayala, will you assist our guest please?"

"I can manage."

"I insist."

The woman smiled tightly but accepted Ayala's guidance towards the surgical bay. Tuvok holstered his phaser and moved to his captain's side, keeping a watchful eye on Sewrin.

"How did you know?" Janeway asked him quietly. "And how much did she hear?"

"Her respiration increased when she first awoke and again when the young woman suggested we should have let the male die."

"Which means she also knows I escaped from a Mokra prison."

"A fact she likely already knew given that it is safe to assume there is likely a bounty out on you as well, Captain."

The thought hadn't occurred to her, but it made sense. "It would explain how she knew who I was and addressed me by name."

Tuvok nodded. "Given Augris' obsession with you and the manner in which you departed his control, I imagine the bounty for your capture is quite significant."

She looked up at her old friend. "You think they'll try to collect me as a payday?"

"I believe they may already be attempting to do so."

* * *

B'Elanna's report confirmed it. The damage to the Alsaurian ship was more flash than substance.

"They had a program set on a delayed time sequence that would have triggered shielding over the rupture while repressurizing the ship if we hadn't arrived in a timely manner," B'Elanna explained.

"They were certainly dedicated to their cause," Tom said, looking over the medical report. "The burns they suffered were real enough."

"Most likely endured only upon confirmation of us receiving and responding to their distress call," Tuvok suggested.

"A quick look at their computer also showed a file on you, Captain. If _kellots_ are your currency, you're worth a lot of them," B'Elanna finished, sitting back in her chair at the briefing room table.

Janeway considered everything that had just been reported and gave Chakotay a sidelong look. "I'd say they've enjoyed our hospitality long enough, would you agree, Commander?"

He nodded. "Do you want them put in the brig?"

"I want them off my ship," she said firmly. "B'Elanna, is their ship habitable?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Fine. Let them make their own repairs."

"What about the girl?" Chakotay asked.

"It is unlikely she will wish to return to the ship with the bounty hunters," Tuvok commented, "but taking her within transporter range of the planet would put Voyager at significant risk."

"What if we don't take Voyager all the way in?" Tom asked. "I could take her in a shuttle."

"No," B'Elanna immediately dismissed his idea. "The planet sensors are calibrated to Federation signatures by now. A shuttle wouldn't stand a chance." She shook her head. "And they probably know Neelix's ship now, too."

"I doubt she wants to travel with us back to the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay added.

"She's important to the Resistance or the Mokra wouldn't want her so badly. She won't want to leave them," Janeway said, rubbing her temple.

"She might know a solution," Chakotay offered. "Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No, I'll do it." she said. "I'll let you take care of the other two. Everyone else, return to your posts and if we get the slightest sensor blip of anything coming our way, I want to know about it immediately. Dismissed."

Chakotay lingered briefly, but she gave him a reassuring smile before tapping her comm. badge and requesting Ayala bring Sewrin to her ready room. Waiting for the younger woman's arrival, Janeway really wanted a cup of coffee, but waiting until Sewrin arrived so she could offer her something at the same time would be a great ice breaker. She wondered idly what the next step of the plan had been for the bounty hunters. Had they possessed some sort of transporter technology that they planned to whisk her off of Voyager with? Disabling their own ship had been fairly ingenious; surely there had been another step to the plan as well. Voyager was clearly the superior ship, but did she have more enemies lurking just out of sensor range?

The door for her ready room chimed and she turned away from the viewport, calling for entry. Sewrin immediately scanned the room for threats as she stepped inside, visibly relaxing when she found no one but Janeway waiting for her.

"Thank you, Mister Ayala," Janeway said. "Would you wait outside?"

He balked, clearly not wanting to leave the captain alone with the girl, but after another nod from Janeway, he stepped outside the doors.

"Heard you wanted to see me," Sewrin said, eyeing the plants and artifacts in the room, trailing her hand across the back of one of the guest chairs as she moved further inside.

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you. Would you care for anything to drink? Some food perhaps?" she asked, crossing to the replicator, her hand already itching to hold a warm mug.

"I'll have whatever you're having."

Janeway winced. "I'm having coffee; it might not be a drink you'd enjoy."

Sewrin shrugged. "Doesn't matter, unless you got water in that fancy machine of yours."

The captain repressed a smile. "Would you prefer water?"

"Sure," Sewrin scoffed, leaning down to look closer at the wooden mask on the shelf, "how about a big, tall glass of it? Cold. With ice."

"Coffee, black. Ice water, twenty ounces," she ordered, feeling the girl's attention as she retrieved the drinks and set the glass of water on the desk. "Are you sure you wouldn't care for something to eat?"

Sewrin shook her head, gingerly picking up the glass of water and smelling it. "Is this really…water?"

"You heard me order it," she said. "Please, have a seat."

Finally, the girl took a sip, closing her eyes as she swallowed, and protectively cradling the glass between her hands. "I've never had-" She abruptly stopped herself, her eyes going hard again over the rim. "What do you want for it?"

"The water is free, but there are several things you and I need to discuss."

Sewrin put the glass of water back on the desk, pushing it away. "What shall we discuss, Captain?"

"You can keep the water, Sewrin. It doesn't matter what your answers are. I'm not going to take it from you."

The young woman didn't move, waiting silently, offering nothing.

Sensing stubbornness on the matter which would be pointless to press, Janeway sighed. "Why did Keldo and his wife capture you?"

"I told you already. They're bounty hunters. Kidnapping people for money is what they do."

"Yes, but the ship's trajectory indicated you were returning to Alsauria. Why did they capture you? Where did they capture you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"We're sending Keldo and his spouse back to their ship," Janeway explained. "I'm trying to determine what to do with you."

Sewrin leaned forward. "If you send me back to that ship, I'm as good as dead. You might as well do me a favor and space me now."

"I have no intention of sending you back to their ship against your wishes, but I'm trying to determine what we are going to do with you."

"Take me back to my planet."

Janeway shook her head. "That's not possible. It's too dangerous for my ship and my crew."

Sewrin settled back into her chair, still eyeing Janeway. "What did the Mokra's file say about me?"

The question caught Janeway by surprise and her mind flashed back to that room and the only time she ever saw the file as it was displayed larger than life along the wall. With effort, she shook off the memory. "It said you were a terrorist."

"Well. Yeah," Sewrin drawled out. "What else did it say?"

She didn't like thinking about what the file had said. She'd tried very hard to not learn it, but video footage of a fiery transport vehicle of some sort seemed to be seared into her memory. "Augris claimed you were responsible for a vehicle bombing."

"In Metrin?"

Janeway shook her head. "I don't know."

Sewrin actually grinned and reached for the glass of water, having apparently decided against her earlier refusal. "Well, at least old Augris has his facts straight."

She couldn't say she was surprised by the girl's guilt, disappointed perhaps, but not surprised. There were people on her ship currently serving as members of her crew that had committed similar acts for the Maquis – would still be committing such acts if they weren't currently in the Delta quadrant.

"Sewrin, what were you doing way out here?"

The girl's mirthful attitude cooled considerably. "It's like I said in your medical bay, I had a mission."

"Way out here? I thought your fight was against the Mokra."

"It is. You think the Mokra are confined only to Alsauria?" she asked. "There's a small planet about five light years from Alsauria that the old folks used to talk about. It has rolling oceans, lush vegetation, and so much fresh water that it thunders over cliffs in fast moving rivers. It's a veritable paradise that anyone could visit…until the Mokra Order claimed it for its own. The Mokra claimed that it was the perfect place to conduct training and insure Alsaurian security, but they really just use it as their own pleasure den." Sewrin shook her head. "Attractive Alsaurian men and women are taken there by force and made to be servants for whatever Mokra soldiers are staying there at any given time. And when I say servants, I mean slaves: slaves that have to do _anything_ the Mokra desire." The young woman's eyes met Janeway's. "Rumor had it that Augris intended for you to be sent there once he broke you."

The thought made Janeway's skin crawl and she found she had to swallow before she could speak. "And you, what, escaped from that planet?"

"No." Sewrin shook her head. A smile on her face that was as cold an expression as Janeway had ever seen. "I just _bombed_ that planet, Captain. Turned their little Mokra paradise into the hell they deserve."


	18. Chapter 17

**Ch. 17**

Janeway stood staring out at the stars. They were underway again, having left the bounty hunters to fend for themselves in their broken and only semi-repaired ship, and they'd dropped Sewrin off on a planet she'd angrily suggested. The planet's small knot of civilization was a long displaced Alsaurian colony that everyone on the home planet had forgotten even existed until a Resistance pilot crash landed there some years back. In exchange for keeping their existence a secret from the Mokra, Resistance members were welcome to visit, hide out, or recuperate when needed. Sewrin figured she'd be out of the fight for months until transport back could be arranged for her.

She'd tried very hard to convince Janeway to take her all the way back to Alsauria. The guilt she'd laid at the captain's feet had been simple. Janeway was alive because of the Resistance, ergo she owed the Resistance. If she wasn't going to aid them with weapons, she could at least provide food and water. When Janeway had made it clear she wouldn't be going back to the planet nor would she give Sewrin a ship to do so herself, the young woman's anger had ignited.

_"I guess Augris broke you, after all," she snarled. "He scares you so damn bad you won't even go back to the planet and face him. You're a coward."_

The captain's logical side dismissed the accusation entirely, knowing it wasn't true and that Augris had little to do with her reasons for not taking Voyager anywhere near that planet again. But she wasn't Vulcan, and she couldn't deny, even to herself, that the prideful half of her personality wanted nothing more than to join Sewrin in going back to that planet. She wanted to raise some hell on behalf of the Resistance, fight the injustice the Mokra represented, and ignore the Starfleet directives ingrained in her psyche about non-involvement with other cultures. She'd seen the Mokra culture up close and all too personal. If she'd gone back to the planet, it would not have been to spread peace and tolerance.

Unfortunately, there was also a third voice. A small voice buried deep inside her that agreed with Sewrin's assessment. She was a coward. She was scared and broken and completely incapable of facing Augris. She could make all the noise she wanted to blot out the truth, but when she was done, the truth would still be sitting there waiting for her.

It wasn't true. She'd broken the man's face for Saturn's sake. She was alive, on her own ship, with her own people, on her way home. None of which had been in Augris' plans for her. She'd beaten him.

But the small voice didn't agree. It didn't disagree. It simply sat there, deep down in her gut, and offered up its assessment. Kathryn Janeway was a coward, and she was running for home as fast as possible with her tail tucked between her legs because she was scared. Because she was beaten.

The chime at her door was a welcome respite.

Chakotay entered, looked briefly for her behind the desk before seeing her by the viewport. He stepped further inside, allowing the doors to close behind him. "Thought you'd want to know that according to the maps Torres downloaded from the bounty hunters' navigational computer, we've cleared Alsaurian and Mokra space."

"She shouldn't have done that," she said automatically of the minute breach of protocol but then shook her head. "I have to admit, though, I'm glad to hear it."

She turned, quietly studying her first officer for a moment, earning herself a small grin when he noticed her scrutiny.

"What is it?" he asked.

He had been a Maquis commander. He probably had more in common with Sewrin than she did. "Do you support the actions Sewrin took?"

The grin faded and his head tilted slightly as he regarded her and the question. She had the distinct impression he was gauging how honest she really wanted him to be. If he dodged the question, the smart course of action would be to allow it. To let the moment that she shouldn't have brought to the light pass without further discussion.

"It was a military target," he said finally, which didn't really answer the question.

Not exactly.

Several responses immediately rose to her lips, but she held her silence in the face of his honest response. She'd asked; he'd answered. If she hadn't wanted to hear it… She resumed looking out the viewport, quietly commenting, "Given her description, it was most likely a terrible loss of life."

He didn't say anything, but she caught a partial reflection of him as he looked down. He'd probably committed similar acts. Acts that couldn't substantially be attributed to him and had therefore not been included in his file, acts that as long as they were stuck in the Delta Quadrant, she probably did not want to know about.

And still the question escaped from her lips before she could stop it. "Did you limit yourself to military targets?"

Even out of the corner of her eye, she saw him straighten, his broad shoulders squaring to her, his hands clenching into fists. "We tried. It wasn't always possible."

"Possible?"

He clasped his hands behind his back and remained silent. She waited. Finally, he made a frustrated noise. "Some civilian targets drew more attention to our cause than sticking strictly to military targets," he explained tersely, before continuing in a tired voice. "Is this a conversation you really want to have right now?"

No.

"Is there a better time?"

"There could be," he said. "It's been a long month and a half."

"It's been a long year."

"We're both tired," he continued. "We might say things we normally wouldn't."

"That might qualify this as the best time for a discussion."

"Some things are better left unsaid."

It was true, out here at least, if not always. If they vehemently disagreed with each other, there was nowhere to hide. No room to put some distance between each other. No other ship to transfer to. If she wasn't careful she was going to destroy everything they'd worked so hard to build over the past year.

Turning, she faced him. "I had sympathy for the Maquis."

His expression remained tired, but she saw a hardness creep into it at her confession. It was mild, but she knew it meant that her sympathy was not something he considered helpful.

"And yet, you accepted the mission to hunt us down," he said, his voice firm.

She nodded. "Those were my orders. I chose not to condone your actions."

It was his turn to nod. They weren't really covering any new ground here even if it hadn't ever been said between them. They'd always known where the other had stood. If they had never been stranded in the Delta Quadrant, they'd still be on opposite sides of the line, sympathy or not. She wondered though, if they landed in the Alpha Quadrant tomorrow…would the situation still be so black and white?

"And I don't approve of Sewrin's actions on that planet," she swallowed tightly, "and yet, I empathize with the Alsaurian Resistance." Her heart beat faster with the words and her throat tightened, straining her voice. "I understood the hate Sewrin had towards the Mokra," she admitted. "I _share_ it."

Chakotay's chin came up as he absorbed her words. "You wanted to go back with her to the planet."

"Yes."

"Revenge?"

"No." She shook her head. "No. Justice." Her hand sliced through the air, punctuating her remarks. "The Mokra are subjugating those people. Anyone who isn't Mokra is treated like some sort of lower class, as though they're expendable."

"Exactly how the Federation treated the border colonies."

She'd walked right into that, but admitting it to herself and admitting it to him were two different things. She pinched the bridge of her nose. He was right. She was too tired for this. "The situations aren't exactly the same, Commander."

"They never are, Captain," he agreed easily, his tone still hard, "but imagine how you'd feel if you'd seen the Cardassians as up close and personal as you saw the Mokra. Imagine if a Cardassian took the same sick, sadistic interest in you as Augris did. How would you feel about the Maquis then?"

The icy chill that crawled up her back was a familiar sensation. Her personal encounter with the Cardassians had taken place years ago, before there was a treaty, before there was a need for the Maquis, but her first officer had absolutely no way of knowing that. The experience had been kept quiet and even if he'd read her service file, which she assumed he had by now, he would've only seen a commendation regarding a highly successful albeit classified science mission. To view the full details of that particular commendation required the top levels of clearance.

"Captain?"

She realized she was rubbing her temple, the exact spot where she had been hit all those years ago. Doctors assured her she was completely healed, but she'd always sworn that she could feel a slight indentation there. Was it really only the passage of time that separated her feelings towards the Cardassians compared with her feelings towards the Mokra? Chakotay was still waiting for a response to his question. Or maybe he wasn't, maybe he knew he'd made his point and all he wanted to do now was get the hell out before it became even more awkward in her quarters.

"I have…no love for the Cardassians, Commander," she said finally, "of that, at the very least, I can assure you."

He frowned at her response, not in anger but more in concentration as though he was trying to remember something. It wasn't the reaction she'd expected.

"You mentioned the other night that this wasn't the first time you've been held prisoner," he said thoughtfully after a long moment of silence.

She swallowed. "I did."

"Huh."

She waited for him to follow that up with something more substantial, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry to do so. "What?"

He shrugged. "It's not in your file."

No, it wasn't. And she'd known that. She just hadn't thought about that when she'd made the comment. Hadn't expected him to make the connection. She cleared her throat. "It's classified."

"Classified?"

"Yes."

"Cardassians." It wasn't a question.

"It's classified," she repeated.

He nodded. "Kind of like that classified science mission you went on as an ensign, your one and only deep space mission as a science officer, studying halo objects-"

"Massive compact halo objects," she corrected automatically. "What about them?"

He shrugged, settling back against her desk. "You managed to write a thesis paper on them while you were still a cadet. How classified could they possibly be?"

"You read my junior thesis?" she asked, surprised and more than a little mortified at the idea.

"No," he chuckled. "I found it in the educational databanks, but trying to read and comprehend it was a bit more than I was prepared to do. If we run into one out here in the Delta quadrant, I'll happily defer to your knowledge on the subject."

She relaxed slightly at his humor. "Anything's possible. Their origins are still something of a mystery."

"Who was your adviser?"

"Admiral Paris."

"The Scorcher?"

She nodded.

He gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Wow." He shifted his weight, the smile slipping from his expression. "You know, I heard a story once about him."

"With Tom as your pilot, I don't doubt that," she tried, even though she knew their pilot went out of his way to _not_ mention his familial relation to Owen Paris.

"No, not from him," he said dismissively. "I heard this story from two guys in the Maquis, couple of the best trained fighters I'd ever come across. They kept to themselves mostly, but since we were all three former Starfleet officers they felt a degree of comfort around me more than they did some of the other Maquis."

She didn't want to hear about his story, but she saw no clear way to end the conversation without making him even more suspicious. "Well, Admiral Paris didn't earn his nickname without reason. I'm sure there are plenty of officers out there, former or otherwise, that have stories about him."

"Stories that also involve Cardassians?" he asked bluntly. "Stories that could only be told by officers that had formerly been Starfleet Rangers?"

Her hand gripped the back of the chair she stood next to, mentally forbidding the memory of Justin Tighe to rush to the front of her thoughts.

Chakotay took a few steps towards her. "Over the course of a night and several drinks, those two former Rangers told me all about the missions they'd been on, the things they'd seen the Cardassians do to others. They saw how the spoonheads tortured and abused people they'd captured; they saw how the Federation turned a blind eye to the violence. It was the main reason they'd left the ranks." He paused, taking a breath. "One of those missions they told me about included snatching an admiral right out of the hands of the Cardassians that were torturing him. Can you guess who that admiral was?"

He hesitated, offering her a chance to answer, but she stayed silent, eyes blazing up at him. The momentary bolt of fear he'd seen cross her face when she'd gripped the chair was long gone. She was braced now in preparation, daring him to finish the story and make his conclusions.

He obliged. "The way they told it, their team also rescued another officer that night during the same mission. A young, female ensign…dressed in science officer blue."


	19. Chapter 18

**Ch. 18**

Her silence was unnerving. She didn't even blink so far as he could tell and he was watching very closely. Waiting for some sort of reaction. A confirmation.

Finally, she raised an eyebrow. "Did this ensign have a name?"

"Not that they mentioned, no."

"Pity," she said and moved away from him towards the replicator.

"They respected her though," he continued, turning so he could watch her. "Even with half her face covered in blood, she saved the life of one of their buddies, killed a raging Toskanar with a tree branch, and then attacked a Cardassian guard."

She kept her back to him, her shoulders not as squared as they usually were. He couldn't be sure from his angle, but it looked as though she were worrying her forehead.

"Was that ensign you, Captain?" he asked, abandoning hints and beating around the bush.

She faced him, her fingers tapping against the side of the mug she held. "It was a classified mission."

He shook his head. "I'm not asking for the details."

"What _are_ you asking for?"

Chakotay released a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I just want to know how much of that ensign is still in the captain standing before me? How would she have felt about the Mokra? Or even the Maquis?"

She considered him for a moment and then lowered her eyes to the contents of her mug. "It's like you said earlier, some things are better left unsaid."

It wasn't the answer he wanted, but there wasn't much he could do about it so he nodded. "Then I guess we're both right. Good night, Captain."

He was within one step of triggering the door open when she spoke again, freezing him to the spot.

"I'm almost certain I killed the Cardassian I attacked that day."

He caught himself before he shrugged. It didn't sound unreasonable to him. "Considering the situation, I'm sure it was justified."

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't really. Justin…he was one of the Rangers, had just phasered the weapon the Cardassian had been holding out of his hand. The weapon exploded, stunned the guard and knocked him down. We were safe enough at that point, we were at the site, we could call for the beam out."

"You didn't?"

"_I_ didn't." Her eyes met his. "I should have, but instead I kicked the Cardassian's skull with all the strength I could muster, and when I felt it cave beneath my boot, I raised my foot to swing again." She paused, casting her eyes downward. "Justin called for the beam out before I could land a second blow. Once we were back on board the Icarus, given the mission's classified nature, I was never even questioned about my actions."

"I'm sure it all happened very quickly," he offered.

"It did," she agreed, "but that doesn't mean that I don't remember the rage that welled up inside me in that moment. Or the satisfaction I felt at knowing I had _hurt_ him. The same way they'd hurt Admiral Paris and myself. The same way I knew they'd hurt Justin and the other Rangers if given half a chance." She closed her eyes against the memory, banishing it back before it overtook her. "It's not a feeling I've dwelled on much over the years. I chalked it up to youth and inexperience, assuming age and responsibility had tempered such impulses."

He walked back to her, leaving the door and the escape it had offered, closing instead the distance between them once again. "I'd agree they have. You didn't turn the ship around and go back to the planet."

She gave him a small smile. "I had time to think about my actions, weigh what I felt to be the correct thing to do against what felt like the right thing to do." She shook her head. "I couldn't run off and supply Sewrin and the Resistance anymore than I could've condoned the Maquis actions, despite how I may have _personally_ felt regarding the situations."

It was all the admission he was likely to ever get, but it was enough for him to understand. Not agree with but at least understand.

"And yet," she continued so quietly he almost didn't hear her, "in the moment, with a weapon in my hand, I didn't hesitate. I swung. I smashed Augris' face. I wanted him to _hurt_."

He knew it wouldn't help her to know he found comfort in that thought. He only wished he'd been there to see it instead of hearing about it second hand from Ayala. "Well, it sounds like to me, Captain, that there might be a little bit of the ensign still in you, after all."

She frowned at his conclusion. "That's not necessarily a good thing, Chakotay."

He shrugged. "She survived captivity and mistreatment with nothing but youth and inexperience. Would you have done as well as you did with the Mokra without her in your past?"

Janeway opened her mouth to reply then frowned and closed it again finding she had nothing to say to that.

Chakotay smiled. "Maybe you did a _little_ bit more than you had to in order to survive, but only a little bit. I wouldn't lose any more sleep over it, Captain." He glanced towards her bedroom. "Get some rest. I'll see you on the bridge."

She watched him leave, mumbling a good night before looking to the mug in her hand. It was half full but she set it in on the shelf to be recycled and continued on to her bedroom. The blankets and sheets she'd dumped unceremoniously onto the bed that morning from their place on the floor still sat in a heap. Forget regulations and Starfleet training, if her mother had been able to see the state in which she'd left her bedroom, she'd have a fit, and Kathryn's ears would be ringing even on the other side of the galaxy.

With a sigh, she reached out and knocked the pile to the floor, shook out the fitted sheet, and threw it over the bed, leaning down to tuck it in. Moving her way around the four corners and extricating the flat sheet from the pile to throw on next, she caught herself humming. She stopped immediately, recognizing the tune as one of Three-twelve's ditties.

She sank slowly to a sitting position on the corner of the bed, still clutching the sheet. As an ensign she had sung a lullaby; the song had been nothing more than noise to distract her from the evil that surrounded her in a dark place. Just like Three-twelve's songs had been for him.

"I'm sorry, Three-twelve," she whispered to the empty room. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I couldn't be the person you thought I was. I wish...that I could have done more."

The admission burned her eyes with unshed tears. She listened to the near silence of her quarters, the thrum of Voyager's warp engines a quiet rumble, and she almost hoped to hear the disjointed humming. When she didn't, she released a long, slow breath, got back to her feet and shook out the sheet again. When the broken melody rose in her mind, she crooked a grin and began humming once more.

The End

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Thank you to everyone that reviewed and/or read this story. I really appreciate you giving my words the time, and I hope you enjoyed the story.


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